My Lioness
by MelpomeneTears
Summary: The Hawke family was used to life throwing hardship their way. Facing a Darkspawn army, fighting for life and freedom, meeting dangerous witches, it was all just life as usual. Sekhmet would fight to protect them even with her last breath. She had made a promise to Papa and she intended on keeping it, Part of the RELATIONSHIPS IN PIECES Universe
1. Chapter 1

**Endings and Beginnings**

Daggers itching in her palms she looked up at Carver. "Are you ready?"

More than a head taller than her, his raven hair the night to her stark white day, he sneered down at her, "As ready as you are."

Her face softened, their relationship was filled with too much cruelty. Papa would be so disappointed in them both. She gave Carver a bit of a smile, "Don't die."

The rigid lines of his body, heavily muscled from wielding his greatsword, relaxed a little and he laughed, a soft sound still tinged with a bit of bitterness but without its usual venom, "Not today."

She couldn't read his crystalline blue eyes even though they were the mirror of her own, never could, but she hoped that he knew she loved him, and hoped that he loved her too even if they could never admit it. His anger at her always kept them at an arm's length from each other, even now as they prepared to fight a nightmare back into the depths of the earth.

She tried to think of a time when Carver wasn't so angry at her, at the world in general, and was left at a loss. She pushed aside the dark morass of her thoughts; there were more important things to be paying attention to right now.

She glanced again at Carver as he held his heavy sword, the thing probably weighed as much as she did. Lifting it from his broad shoulder he held it at the ready as rain started to fall around them. The battlefield, over shadowed by the ancient bones of a ruin long forgotten, reeked of fear and wet dog. The night was going to be long and cold and miserable. Icy droplets ate the already waning light leaving the army in a murky twilight as the monsters advanced, a dark wave cresting between the trees of the Wilds.

It was only a few minutes before the orange glow of the enemies' torches lit up the sky ahead of them, a few at first then growing rapidly until there was a vast ocean of torch light rolling back across the far side of the field and flickering from the depths of the Wilds. Sekhmet gasped, "Sweet Maker, there's a whole…a…"

"Horde?" Carver helpfully supplied, "We're in trouble now, where did your wit go dear sister?" It was only a jest, and she was relieved he had chosen not to be cruel. In the face of battle, death, and war they seemed to find an uneasy peace.

She wished she could be surprised that it would take such a drastic situation to quell the ever present animosity her brother held towards her. But she wasn't, she had committed an unspeakable crime and his anger, his righteous anger was part of her penance. So, pushing aside the lengths it took to get there she just enjoyed the simple jest, with a grin on her face she sparred back, "The same place as your humility I'd wager."

The formidable tree that was her brother, taller than their parents and broad as any battle-hardened, lifelong soldier, flashed her a smile back. It was a rare enough occurrence that she took a moment to treasure it. Carver could be dour and bitter, his anger could burn like acid but he could be charming and sweet when he wanted, funny even. Closing her eyes for a moment she gave her head a light shake, the sea of light trudging ever forward and her attention was needed back on the battlefield instead of buried under years of regret.

The soldiers around the two of them began shifting nervously belying their inexperience, but she and Carver remained still. Long years of training and fighting together kept them calm despite the impending battle, perhaps even because of it. And monsters were nothing new to the two of them; these ones just looked as monstrous on the outside as they were on the inside.

As the twisted black creatures marched towards them, it was the smell that got to her in the end. Not the sight of so many torches, or even the ghastly faces she saw when the enemy was finally upon them. It was the smell of rot and corruption and death that blanketed over the earth ahead of the Darkspawn that shook her. She had experienced many horrifying things in her years but that smell, the pervasiveness of it, would haunt her all her life.

She and Carver slogged through the monsters cutting a large swath as those less experienced fell around them, their shrill screams all but lost in the cacophony of battle. Sekhmet kept glancing at the Tower of Ishal in the distance waiting for the signal fire to be lit atop it. Loghain would bring in his men from the flank and they would cut down these monsters once and for all. And she could return home. A victory here would give her something that Mother and Bethany could be proud of, something worthwhile.

Carver's young face, Maker he was so terribly young but already battle scarred, was twisted into a snarl as his greatsword chopped through the Darkspawn with ease flickering silver in the dull light and dripping black ichor in thick rivulets. They were both covered in gore, hearts racing and fatigue pulling at them but as long as he could lift that monstrosity of a sword she would keep swinging her daggers. It seemed to stretch on forever, an endless parade of nightmare creatures, the stench of the beasts and the screams of their fallen brethren interspersed with the enraged cries of the Darkspawn.

"Light damn you, light." She gritted out between her teeth as she took down another shrieking monstrosity, the blades tied to its forearms clearly poisoned and its cries so shrill her ears rang with the sound of it. A quick glance around her made her heart lurch in her chest, she and Carver were nearly alone on their part of the field now, just the two of them and a still rising tide of Darkspawn.

The two of them and Tyr, her coal black Mabari, meant as a gift for Carver to match his raven hair, but who had chosen her instead, another nail in the coffin that housed her relationship with her brother. And he was as fearsome as any fighter she had ever seen, man or beast, and fighting with him by her side was as familiar as fighting with her brother there.

It wasn't arrogance, but experience that told her they were three of the best fighters in Ferelden. The proof of it lay around the three of them, dying or dead already. The knowledge was at least a little comfort to her, she wanted to believe they could survive, wanted to believe they could hold out until the reinforcements finally came.

Later it would strike her how well she and Carver worked in concert. In battle, if nowhere else, the two of them got along beautifully. When they fought together, side by side it was like dancing, like a beautifully choreographed dance of death and dismemberment.

* * *

Sekhmet's eyes flew open and as she took in her surroundings she groaned. Stuck, in the hold of the ship like rats cowering in the dark, it rankled at Sekhmet Hawke, but many things did as of late. There was nothing in the stinking hole to distract her and keep her mind off what they had just come from. She glanced at those huddled closest to her.

Her mother was curled on the floor, she lay still as if sleeping but Sekhmet knew she was weeping silently for Carver. Her silver grey hair was still brushed and tied back neatly even with them sitting in the bowels of this foul ship. The cloth of her clothing was that of a peasant but the stitching was as fine as any noble woman's, hours of toil from her mother's own hands. Sekhmet knew her mother's amber eyes would be red rimmed from crying.

Let her mother cry tears enough for the both of them, she couldn't bring herself to weep for her younger brother, she was too angry at him and herself for not saving him. Again, when push came to shove she was found wanting. No, it was his own stubbornness, his hotheaded nature that got him killed. What had he been thinking charging an ogre alone?

She sighed quietly to herself taking a slow deep breath and petting Tyr a bit to calm herself, there was nothing here to rage against. At length she looked to Bethany. Sweet Bethany, her little sister and Carver's twin, the mage child she had spent her life protecting, the girl was still and silent, staring into the darkness.

Sadness clung heavily to her and Sekhmet wished she could ease it. For all of her sister's firepower there was something delicate, something fragile about her, Sekhmet hoped that Carver's death didn't leave her sister forever scarred. She nudged Tyr a little and when the dog lifted its head to gaze at her she subtly canted her head towards Bethany. He stood and shuffled over to Bethany laying his head in her lap and licking her hand. Bethany didn't quite smile, but she seemed a little lighter at least.

Aveline, the ginger haired warrior woman they had run across on the way out of Lothering, sat a little away from the other three women staring up through the grate at the sky. She hadn't said anything to any of them since she had been forced to end her husband's life to spare him a slow painful death from the corruption in his blood. He had been weak and already dying when Aveline had put her dagger through his heart, but Sekhmet couldn't imagine it had been easy.

Having that burden hanging over your head, that you're responsible for someone's death, someone you love, it's eats at you, can blind you and drown you if you let it. But Aveline seemed like a strong woman, and Sekhmet had to respect her for having the strength to do it in the first place. Bethany and Mother had both tried speaking with her, but the warrior woman had walled herself off. Sekhmet left her alone; Aveline would speak when she was ready.

She pushed to her feet and stretched wishing she could take her boots and socks off, could stretch her feet out and to roam around barefoot but she didn't dare between the rough boards beneath her feet and the inevitable vomit from seasick passengers. Sekhmet didn't like being confined in anyway, didn't like being caged. It was why she had left Lothering finally, there was nothing left for her to do at home, Carver had made it clear they didn't need her anymore and she had felt like she was dying for years cooped up in the same house in the same town for all those years.

Right now what she really needed was something to keep her mind busy. Idle she had too much time to brood, too much time to think about Loghain, the traitor who had betrayed the King and all his army leaving them to die at Ostagar. And time to remember how she, Carver and Tyr had only narrowly escaped that bloody, carnage strewn field with their lives and only returned to their home mere moments ahead of the Darkspawn horde.

They had dragged Bethany and Mother from home without much chance to grab anything at all. All they had owned and loved would be tainted, corrupted and taken by the Darkspawn now. Never could she have imagined that she would be so grateful her whole life fit into a pack. Her gaze wandered again to the large odd shaped and lumpy bag that lie on the floor beside her mother.

The bag had belonged to Papa and Mother had not opened it since his death as far as Sekhmet knew. It had been the only thing her mother refused to leave without. So Carver had angrily grabbed it slinging it over his shoulder as he ushered Mother from their small house. And when Carver had died Sekhmet picked up the bag, nearly as long as she was tall, and carried it the rest of the way to Gwaren.

It was a heavy burden, filled with things she couldn't imagine and a few she could, stained with the blood of the only two men she had ever loved and chained to her aching heart. No wonder Mother couldn't leave it behind, couldn't even speak of it as yet. Her mother made them promises to show them what lay inside the bag when they were settled safely in Kirkwall with her family.

Angry again, because anger was better was easier than the pain she felt, Sekhmet gritted her teeth. Kirkwall, it was such a bad idea. Ferelden had been bad enough with its Templars, but if the rumors were to be believed Kirkwall was crawling with them and practically run by them as well. How was she supposed to keep Bethany safe there of all places?

Sitting back down she pulled her battered pack in front of her. Her life had been reduced to just this bag, this small sack of leather and cloth she carried over her shoulders, but that had been a year ago and had nothing to do with the Darkspawn. The only monsters Sekhmet had been fighting for the last year had been her own. Impatiently, she pushed her hair back out of her face willfully ignoring any thoughts that tried to break through and slipped her hand into the soft darkness and found what she was looking for near the bottom.

Her thin calloused fingers traced lightly over the intricately carved wood of the box. _"Papa, help me keep them safe."_ She closed her eyes, the thought running through her mind over and over. Tracing the familiar lines and repeating the well known mantra calmed her somewhat; it stilled her mind and soothed her anger. There were no enemies here to rail against, other than herself; they had left them behind in Ferelden.

Heart soothed at least a little for now she was pulling her hand from her pack when her fingers brushed against a fine chain. Little tingles shot across her hand as she touched the amulet. The cost of her family's safety was this amulet and its safe delivery. She thought briefly about not bothering to deliver it, there was something not quite right about the witch who had helped them, even the few Chasind they come across on their way through the Wilds had seemed to fear the statuesque white haired woman. Sekhmet had never known a Chasind to show fear before.

Aveline had called the woman a Witch of the Wilds. Everyone knew stories about Flemeth the Witch of the Wilds. A woman cloaked in mystery who supposedly stole your daughters and had lived for centuries. She had flown across the wasteland that the Wilds had become in the wake of the Darkspawn as a great maroon, fire breathing dragon. The Darkspawn closing in on Sekhmet and those who traveled with her had been charred to ash, most likely saving their lives.

They had all been surprised when she landed near them a tall, graceful and formidable looking woman. If only she had appeared a few minutes earlier, Carver might have been saved. But it had been Sekhmet taking down the ogre that killed her brother that had drawn the witch's attention. Even as a woman the others stayed back from the witch.

Not that she had scared Sekhmet; it had been years since magic had scared her. She hadn't known whether to be angry with the woman for waiting until her brother had been slain before she had swooped to their rescue or grateful that the mysterious woman saved the rest of them. So she had fallen back on her smart mouth. The same mouth that landed her in trouble more often than not, thankfully it amused the witch and she had agreed to help them travel to Gwaren to book passage to Kirkwall.

And so they had rolled across the blackened and tainted land. The witch's power was like nothing Sekhmet had ever seen, she practically vibrated with it, her entire body lit up with a pale yellow light with each spell, shimmering along her skin. And she seemed to be having a great time, peals of raucous laughter reverberated off the rocks around them as she destroyed the Darkspawn like they were pieces of kindling.

No, fear hadn't entered into Sekhmet's mind, whether because she was just too busy killing Darkspawn and protecting what was left of her family or because fear had become an alien emotion to her she didn't know. But, the shimmering power in the amulet made her uneasy, made her want it gone as soon as possible. It was obviously a powerful object and instead of it falling into the wrong hands she would deliver it to the Dalish elves as asked.

The Dalish were a proud people, some thought they were a fairytale so few people saw them. Living so close to the Wilds Sekhmet had spotted them in their land ships a few times though she had never actually met one. There were many stories of the Dalish, mostly told by city elves and servants, half of which she doubted were true. But it was easy to believe that they had magic and had been using it for centuries without the stranglehold of the Chantry. So she would deliver the strange pulsating amulet as asked. Surely they would know what to do with the amulet and she didn't want to be still holding it if the witch were to come look for it.

* * *

Sekhmet hated Kirkwall the moment she set foot in it; it reeked of fear, destitution and repression. The Ferelden refugees milled about disheartened and disenfranchised, denied entry to the city. That didn't stop the ships from offloading their passengers at a place called the Gallows, a stark place that offered little comfort and no hope. Having quickly learned it had been a slave prison but had been turned into a Circle to house the mages of Kirkwall, anger surged through her at the thought of mages kept in a literal prison.

She could feel her teeth on edge as she looked around at the throngs of people waiting to get in, their faces showed their despair. It was easy to tell which ones had actually seen something of the Blight, they looked haunted, their eyes like hollow pits, shuffling around listlessly. They kept to themselves, quiet and looking nearly lifeless.

Though the city was supposedly barring any new refugees from entering it seemed you could still get into the city if you had gold enough to pay the necessary bribes. Something most of the poor wretches would never be able to do having left their homes with only what they could carry and even selling most of that in order to book passage to Kirkwall. And Sekhmet's family was no different, she didn't know what was in her father's bag but she doubted anything in it would be worth enough to get one of them within the city walls let alone all of them. And she herself rarely carried more than a few silvers.

So Sekhmet bided her time, waiting as patiently as she could for her uncle to show up. Her mother assured them that Gamlen would fix everything. Her family, the Amells, were nobility in Kirkwall after all so as soon as he came to claim them they would be allowed to enter the city and everything would be set to rights. Though what Sekhmet was going to do in a noble's household she had no idea.

Three days later when their uncle showed up Sekhmet cursed their luck. The grey and washed out man was dressed in rags, not even as nice as their own clothing after weeks at sea. His eyes were dull and his nose red, a long time drinker to be sure. Mother didn't seem to notice, she just spilled her heart to him and he seemed reluctant, to say the least, to even hear her out. But eventually the truth came out.

He had squandered the family fortune after his parents' deaths and didn't have the gold to buy them passage into the city. But apparently he had fallen low enough to have dealings with suspect people who might be willing to buy their way into the city, for a price. Ah yes, there is always a price.

Sekhmet felt Bethany's hand on her shoulder and kept her mouth shut, if only to appease her sister. Bethany had been through enough already. So Sekhmet agreed to speak with the smuggler and the mercenary that Gamlen had suggested. Either of them were willing to pay the bribes for the group to get into the city, and Sekhmet was worried she knew all too well why.

Her fears were confirmed when they went to speak with the elvin smuggler, Athenril, a beautiful ash blonde woman who immediately caught Sekhmet's attention with her purple tattoos. Even so, all she could really focus on was that their dear old uncle Gamlen had told Athenril and her cohorts about Bethany being an apostate; it was why they were willing to pay the exorbitant bribes. Said bribes to be paid, of course, in exchange for Sekhmet and Bethany working for Athenril for an entire year essentially turning the sisters, as well as Aveline into indentured servants.

Kirkwall was turning out to be a smashing success so far. Even so, Sekhmet grudgingly agreed, only because Bethany did not want to force Mother to another city. Hopefully, the year would pass quickly and they could get on with their lives. And at least Athenril promised Bethany protection from the Templars.

* * *

The year passed in a blur of drudgery where Sekhmet used her skills and hid Bethany's as best as she could. Aveline didn't stay with them for very long; she moved on to become a city guard. Life as a smuggler didn't suit her and Athenril could have cared less, she had what she wanted, a mage on the payroll. Sekhmet often told Bethany that she was glad to have a reason to be prowling around at night, to not be cooped up in the tiny house with Mother's disappointment and Gamlen's bitterness.

As the year came to a close Athenril proved reluctant to let her favorite team go, the Hawke sisters had earned a reputation for getting jobs done right. Even just their name was enough to diffuse situations in some cases and that was not something that Athenril wanted to give up. And so there were fights where Athenril tried to bully Sekhmet into taking another job for her and Sekhmet would mostly just laugh.

Everytime they thought Athenril was done and would be leaving the two of them alone she would pop back into their lives again. After one argument where Athenril had literally dragged Sekhmet into an alley to speak with her, Sekhmet sent Bethany home and told her she would handle Athenril. Bethany never knew what happened, but Athenril didn't try to press them into working for her again.

And though they were free of their servitude to Athenril, now Bethany had no protection besides Sekhmet. And though she loved and trusted her sister, in a town like Kirkwall a woman like Bethany needed all the protection she could find. And money could buy that protection, could give her something to shield herself with.

While her sister enjoyed telling stories and making jokes Bethany was listening. She hated taverns, wasn't a big fan of drinking, but people talked when they drank. So she listened to all of the slurred confessions and whispered rumors. One snagged her attention, an opportunity that could just make them rich. It could bring them enough money to afford her some protection. An expedition into the Deep Roads, supposedly to a previously unexplored area and the rumor was they were looking for some protection to take along with them.

She figured with their experiences in Ferelden fighting Darkspawn at Ostagar and Lothering the organizer would welcome a mage and an experienced rogue, especially since Bethany had been hearing the gossip for months about her sister and her immaculate record with Athenril.

She and Sekhmet headed off to Hightown to speak with the dwarf funding up the Deep Roads trek. Bartrand was foul tempered with sallow skin and a permanent sneer who turned them down flat without even hearing them out fully. He wrote them off as just two more refugees stuck in Lowtown looking for a quick way out.

Bethany felt utterly defeated; she was tired of living in fear all the time. All her life it had been the same story, her family shielded her from the Chantry's ever present eyes. Her family took care of any Templar who caught wind of her being an apostate. She got to watch year after year as Papa's body became more scarred from protecting her. Then it was Sekhmet and finally even her twin bore the scars of protecting her.

It was enough, something had to change. But, here they were again, back to the same old story. Without Athenril's protection the Templars could find them at any time. And then she would have to watch her sister injured and scarred again because of her. Or worse, they would manage to kill Sekhmet this time and she would be dragged off to live in that prison they called a Circle.

Or maybe it would be worse, maybe the Templars would just kill them both and leave her mother all alone in that crappy little shack with her bastard of an uncle. She shuddered at the thought. And Sekhmet's usual humor wasn't helping any. She swore her sister couldn't take anything seriously.

She was ready to lose it when a cutpurse stole the few precious coins Sekhmet carried. A brief vision of setting him on fire right there in the middle of the Dwarven Merchant's guild flitted through her mind. She pushed the thought aside; Sekhmet didn't need Bethany adding to her burdens. As it turned out, their luck was about to change, an oddly cheerful dwarf got the coin purse back for them. Pulling out a hulking monstrosity of a crossbow laden with gold he used a bolt to pin the would-be thief to a wall.

Bethany watched him warily as he strolled up to her and her sister twirling the bolt that had so recently pinned the thief. Tossing their coin purse back to Sekhmet he introduced himself as Varric Tethras, brother of the dwarf heading up the Deep Roads expedition. Varric was a smooth talker, but Bethany liked him anyways. He didn't seem oily like some men who were gifted with words. And he was looking to form a partnership with Sekhmet, seemingly not even interested in Bethany though he knew she was a mage.

Sekhmet finally agreed to give it a try after some gentle prodding by both her and Varric. The dwarf even offered to help them to find jobs around Kirkwall to make the coin needed for their share of the expedition. She wondered just how bored he had to be if he was willing to do a bunch of drudgery work just to make a little coin. He certainly didn't look like he needed the money.

His leather duster was obviously finely crafted and she couldn't even imagine how many hours of labor went into the fine golden embroidery that decorated a large portion of his tunic. And that crossbow, the wood looked like nothing she had ever seen, but it was all the inlaid gold on the thing that made it stand out. It must have weighed a ton, and didn't seem very practical.

He caught her staring at him and barely batted an eye, but she felt herself blush nonetheless. Men were still foreign territory to her, not that she hadn't had crushes before. It had never gone beyond that though; it was too dangerous considering what she was. It was a secret that felt too big, she had never been able to tell anyone herself. If and when others found out it was either because they learned it from someone in her family, or because she had been forced to use her magic.

Varric seemed nice enough, a jovial man with a silver tongue and he already knew her secret, but something about him made her feel that even if she had been interested, it wouldn't be welcome. No, not the romantic type, but he seemed a decent man. It might be nice to have a friend she didn't have to hide the truth from.

Once Sekhmet's decision was made Varric was clearly ready to leave. Bethany could almost see the gears working in the man's head as he started no doubt making plans for their future together. With a bright eyed rakish smile he invited them both to speak with him at the Hanged Man tavern later, or any time they needed him as that was where he stayed. Dropping a wink to Bethany he turned and disappeared back into the crowd at the Hightown market.

Feeling a bit better she followed Sekhmet as she made her way back to Lowtown. They ran into a few acquaintances along the way, Bethany hanging back as Sekhmet brokered deals Bethany wasn't supposed to know about. Although, seeing Elegant, or Lady Elegant as it turned out, was rather nice. If they were going to be doing any jobs that were dangerous it was nice to know they could still pick up potions from her. Keeping Sekhmet still enough for her to make potions, let alone teach Bethany was absurdly hard, so now at least they had a reliable supplier.

Bethany tried not to look at all the things for sale at the Lowtown Market, it just depressed her bringing home the point of how truly broke her family was. Sekhmet didn't share her opinion though and Bethany found herself in front of the weapons merchant as her big sister tried to explain the pros and cons of each of the weapons on display.

"Why does it matter?" She hissed at Sekhmet irritated that she was listening to this prattle yet again.

Sekhmet sighed a frustrated sound of her own. "It wouldn't hurt you to learn how to fight."

"I know how to fight." The conversation was almost second nature now; they had been having it almost weekly for a year.

"Humor me Beth, please? I worry about you. Even you have your limits. Let me buy you something and teach you how to use it."

She could see Sekhmet was genuinely worried. "You don't need to buy me anything, just give me one of your old weapons, its fine. I'll try to learn, but I can't promise anything."

"It's your first weapon; it should be something special, memorable." Sekhmet leaned over looking at the weapons before scowling. Standing back up she looked at the man standing in the booth. "Come on Nico, you know what I want to see."

"Show me the coin first, Hawke."

Bethany was sure that would be the end of it. They clearly didn't have enough coin to get whatever it was Sekhmet had in mind. She winced when Sekhmet smiled, the big one, like a large predator, the smile spoke volumes. It said whoever was on the receiving end of it was in for a world of trouble and it almost never ended well.

"I don't need the coin, Nico. I've got a stack of IOUs from Wicked Grace with your name on them. So why don't you show me what I want, let my kid sister pick the one she wants and we'll call it even. Sound like a deal?"

Nico must have seen the smile before because he reached under the table and pulled out a beautiful wooden box. "Get closer; I don't need the riff raff around here seeing these." Slowly, he opened the box, it was lined in a deep green velvet and nestled inside of it were six beautiful daggers.

"Wow, what is that? I've never seen anything like it." Bethany had never been interested in weapons before but the daggers were truly breathtaking.

"And you likely never will again. You know you're killing me here Hawke don't you? These are supposed to be for my retirement." Nico was trying not to scowl and failing miserably.

"Relax, you just hold on to these beauties for me and I'll either get the coin to buy them or I'll collect some more IOUs from you. Go on Beth, try touching one of the handles."

Hesitantly, she reached out and gently touched the intricately carved blade. The blade, a silvery olive color, was instantly covered in ice. Bethany pulled her hand away, jumping back a little in surprise. She reached out to touch another one and it erupted in flame. A giggle bubbled out of her unbidden, she couldn't help herself they were so beautiful, so different and amazing.

Her sister was beaming, clearly pleased with herself that she had finally found a weapon Bethany liked. She began speaking quickly, "The blades are ironbark, very strong, very light. The handles are carved Halla horn. And each dagger has a gem matching it to the magic it's imbued with. Sapphire for ice, diamond for lightning, ruby for fire, amethyst for spirit, emerald for nature and the pearl is telekinetic. Pick one, any one you want."

Only Sekhmet could have found a weapon pretty enough to entice her. As jaded as her big sister could be she always went the extra mile for her and Mother. And though there was nothing that could fill the hole left by her twin's death Sekhmet did her best and Bethany loved her for it. The blade wasn't difficult to pick.

There was one spell she always felt she was weak with, it never felt strong enough or far reaching enough. Maybe the dagger would bring her a little luck. She picked up the dagger and ran her finger lightly over the diamond at the bottom of the hilt as lightning licked up along the blade. Her sister was right; it was very light, almost like driftwood.

She slipped it into her pocket as Nico closed the case and put it away. Bethany was glad that Sekhmet seemed satisfied and left the miserable looking Nico to watch them walk away. The day really had turned around, a new partnership, possibly a new friend, a beautiful gift and she had been able to make her sister happy as well if the smile on her face was anything to judge by.

"I'll make you a sheath for it. Do you want a belt with it or do you just want it set up so you can add it to your own belts?" Sekhmet was still beaming at her.

"I'll have to think about it." She noticed Sekhmet was headed over to the armorer and decided to steer her clear. There were things they needed to do today.

"Sis, we should get to the Hanged Man, I think Varric's waiting for us."

She paused like she was going to argue but seemed to change her mind turning and heading to the tavern. Varric was set up in a huge suite in the back part of the tavern; it was nearly as large as Gamlen's entire house. He greeted them warmly and bought them each a drink before sitting down with them.

You would have never known they had only met a couple hours earlier from the way Varric chatted amiably with them and laughed at Sekhmet's jokes, even the bad ones and honestly, most of them were bad. But she felt comfortable with him, even inside the tavern. Something about him made her feel safe and relaxed.

Eventually, he steered the conversation to the business at hand. Varric shared some more bad news with them both, apparently not only did they need 50 sovereigns, a sum that seemed impossible, but they also needed to find an entrance to the Deep Roads before they left. Bethany felt a bit overwhelmed but Sekhmet took the news in stride, just assuming they could do it. For once Bethany was thankful for Sekhmet's often ill timed humor, it cheered her a little.

True to his word, Varric was a resourceful man and had heard rumors that there was a former Ferelden Grey Warden now living in Kirkwall. Which surprised Bethany, she only knew of two Ferelden Wardens who had survived the Blight and they were both quite famous. She was sure everyone in the city would be aware if either one of them were there. Varric told them the Grey Wardens often went into the Deep Roads and he thought this Warden might know of an entrance. So off the three of them went to speak with a shopkeeper named Lirene who was known to help Ferelden refugees to see if she could help them find this supposed Warden.

Lirene was hesitant to speak with them about the Warden at first, seemed the man was a mage and a healer who tended to the refugees for free. But Sekhmet, as was her nature, gave the woman a smile and cracked one of her charming little jokes.

"Tell me he has killer eyes and a great smile and I'll marry him on the spot."

Bethany was standing behind her sister but she could picture the smirk on her face. She also happened to agree with Sekhmet. This healer sounded amazing, a mage like herself who was selflessly helping the refugees even though it put him into danger.

Her imagination ran away with her, picturing scenarios as to why he had left Ferelden. Maybe he knew some of the refugees and had come at their plea. Maybe he had been sent on a goodwill mission. Or maybe he was on leave from the Wardens and chose to spend his time helping his fellow countrymen who had been forced from their homes.

The shopkeeper laughed, and blushed just a little before responding, and Bethany almost missed it lost as she was in her own thoughts. "As a matter of fact he has the eyes, but I've never seen him smile."

From there it was just a few well worded queries before they knew where to find this healer and Grey Warden. Varric seemed pleased with Sekhmet; perhaps it was a relief that he wouldn't need to do all the talking all the time. Her sister was more than a little gifted in that area, that was when she controlled herself and didn't let her mouth run away from her.

As they left she was more than a little surprised when the three of them were accosted outside of Lirene's shop by other Ferelden refugees wanting to protect the healer, who Lirene had called Anders. Sekhmet looked to Bethany, and trying not to roll her eyes at Sekhmet's assumption that she would keep the peace, Bethany calmed the group down by letting them know that she and Sekhmet were both Ferelden and just wanted to avoid the Templars. One of these days relying on sweet innocent Bethany to diffuse a situation wasn't going to be an option, but for today it still worked.

The men tripped all over themselves apologizing before the one who seemed to be in charge bowed, "Maker Bless the reign of King Maric the Savior."

Bethany and Sekhmet watched them go, Varric standing a little off to the side before Sekhmet turned to her with a smile. "Did you see that, refugees sticking up for an apostate? Maybe Kirkwall's not as bad as I first thought, or," she drawled out the word, her smirk lighting up her face, "maybe I really will marry this mage on the spot if he warrants loyalty like that from Fereldens."

Bethany rolled her eyes, it was safer if her sister didn't know she was starting to fancy this strange mage she had never met. If Sekhmet caught on she would never live it down. "Enough Sekhmet, let's go find this boy wonder of yours."

Sekhmet nodded, "Alright, but I have to pick up something first."


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome To The Lion's Den**

Sekhmet was trying desperately not to lose her temper. It was hot and sticky in Darktown and the smell was awful and indescribably…well, awful. The last thirty minutes had been a nonstop tirade from her younger sister about her spending habits. Frankly, as far as she was concerned Bethany had no right complaining about anything. She didn't understand about close combat or the need for protection. If Sekhmet could just throw up a magical barrier to protect herself in a fight she might wear armor that she was half falling out of the top of too, of course she would have to have something closer to breasts than she currently had to even attempt such a feat.

Finally, feeling she had been more than patient in listening to her sister she stopped and turned to Bethany, "I get it, you're upset."

"If you keep spending money like that we'll never be able to buy our way into the expedition." Bethany huffed scowling at her making a crease form between her brows.

Telling her sister that she had ordered the armor before she even knew of the expedition again crossed her mind but she was sure it would do exactly as much good as it had the first time. Instead she took a deep breath and willed herself to hold onto the last shreds of her composure until at least they found the Warden healer they were looking for. "I need to protect myself, Beth. My old armor was falling apart."

"But custom work?" Bethany could be such a pain sometimes.

As much as Carver fought with Sekhmet on everything he at least would have understood this. "Now I won't need to buy any more." Although she hated upsetting Beth the feel of the black leather molding to her skin, moving with each bunch and flex of her body told her that the armor was worth every copper she spent on it. Not to mention it felt bloody fantastic on her.

"Ladies, I believe we are here. Look, two lit lanterns." Varric raised his voice just a bit more than necessary probably to make sure the sisters could hear him over their bickering.

She turned to Varric and gave him a grateful smile though she was worried that he had spotted them before she had. In a place as cutthroat as she knew Darktown to be she really needed to keep her wits about her. Twin doors made of what looked to be cheap thin wood stood under the lanterns. Unlike the rest of Darktown the wall seemed to be free of debris perhaps it was a good sign. Nonetheless her gaze roved over and around the doors and across the floor looking for traps. When she didn't spot anything she looked at Varric who nodded, he didn't seem to see anything either so it was a fairly safe bet that it was alright to head inside.

The door slipped open easily into a well lit room. Before she had finished looking around their immediate space for traps on the floor she heard Bethany let out a gasp behind her. Her blades already drawn she looked back towards Bethany who merely smiled and nodded towards the front of the room. Her gaze slid in that direction and she held in a gasp of her own. Her first look at the blonde haired mage was a shock, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting but it sure wasn't a man that looked like that.

It was his height that caught her attention first; the man had to be nearly seven feet tall. She'd never even seen a man that tall before. The tattoos were next, the stark black standing out vividly. His left cheek bore what looked to be a Chasind pattern of cross hatched vines, around the base of his neck twin vines covered in thorns twined making a collar that was mostly covered but peaked through here and there as he moved.

His long hair, haphazardly pulled back in a ponytail was blonde, golden like the rays of the evening sun. It looked soft and inviting and she suddenly had an urge to run her fingers through it, see if it was as soft as it looked, would it smell like sunlight or the poisoned air of Darktown? Taking a deep breath she tried to shake the fool notion from her head, she didn't even know this man she was already lusting after him.

Her eyes continued to rove over him, each new discovery making her feel more and more strongly like she knew this man somehow. Even from back here, not even hearing him utter a single word yet he seemed familiar somehow. He was Ferelden, maybe she had met him briefly sometime in her past, before he had the tattoos. She shoved the thought out of her head, because if she had met him before she was pretty sure she didn't want to remember how; although, it would explain the instant attraction.

Unable to help herself she continued her slow perusal of the man, taking the opportunity to study him while he was busy with the child he was healing. She kept looking for some specific thing that made him seem familiar to her but was left at a loss. If ever she had met a man with markings like his she was sure she would have remembered even if she had been falling down drunk, he was quite remarkable afterall.

Though the man had broader shoulders than she had come to expect in mages he also seemed to be a bit on the thin side. Obviously, the hardships of Darktown and being a Ferelden living in Kirkwall had made their mark even on him. A distinctive and rather vicious looking scar cut across his left eye starting above the brow and cutting partway down his cheek. It seemed as though he still had vision in the eye though she wasn't sure how. An eye damaged that badly would have been lost for sure, especially if it left a scar like that.

Her mind should have been on the business at hand but she couldn't help but to enjoy the sight of him. The man was beautiful, high cheekbones, long almost regal looking nose, soft dark colored lips that he licked and bit periodically as he healed the boy. His forehead was high and wide, a sign of intelligence her father used to tell her, and those long elegant fingers looked almost delicate. Honestly, if she didn't know any better based on his features she would have thought he was some noble.

With features like his and knowing he was a healer one would think the man was a gentle creature and he certainly seemed to be but she felt something deeper. The dark thrum of danger rolled off the man emanating into the room in waves. Glancing around it didn't seem anyone else felt it, but danger was something she was intimately familiar with. And standing here, even from across the room, with him distracted with healing, she felt drawn to him, the proverbial moth to a flame. Danger had always been a kind of an intoxicant to her.

As he finished with the boy, reeling in his magic he slumped a little and Sekhmet felt her heart give a little tug only managing with some effort to stay still and not go to him. _"Pull yourself together."_ She admonished herself.

He grabbed a staff and spun to face the three of them, holding his hand out in warning. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it?" His voice reverberated in an odd way and Sekhmet felt little tingles across her skin. She knew that feeling; it was the barely restrained magic of a very powerful mage. Healer or not, it would not be smart to underestimate this man.

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his stubbled face and sallow skin. He clearly spent too much time out of the sun hidden away in the bowels of the city. With his head finally lifted she was able to get a better look at them. It was always good to see the eyes of whoever you were dealing with; it was harder to hide intentions in your eyes than on the rest of your face. His eyes were honey brown and even his defensive stance didn't detract from their warmth.

The blushing shop keeper who had directed them to the healer had been right, he did have killer eyes. Sekhmet wondered briefly what it would take to pull a smile from the man; she bet his smile would be just as devastating.

"_Watch yourself, girl. This boy is trouble." _ She almost smiled, like that had ever stopped her before. Something about the man was strangely beautiful, oddly alluring, not that he wasn't beautiful from a purely physical stand point. It was just that there seemed some deeper cause to the attraction she felt to him she just couldn't put her finger on it. He shifted uneasily in front of her, obviously waiting for a response or perhaps squirming under her obviously sharp scrutiny.

Hoping to calm the man some she slipped on her little smirk, and slipped her daggers back into their sheaths on her back. "An odd occupation for a Warden, aren't they more about taint and death?"

Varric stepped forward and glowered at her before turning his attention to Anders who had taken a small step backwards away from her. "Rumor has it you were a Grey Warden; we're interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Do you know a way?" He spoke quickly, apparently not convinced of her abilities to appease the mage.

Anders seemed to pale a little before he scowled, "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?"

Sekhmet furrowed her brow in confusion, what was the man talking about?

His voice sounded petulant when he spoke again. "I'm not going; those bastards made me get rid of my cat." His face softened a little, "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot."

Sekhmet giggled, "You had a cat…called Ser Pounce-a-lot?" She stopped giggling but couldn't quite suppress the smile. "In the Deep Roads?"

Anders shifted and stood up a bit taller, Maker the man was tall. As he continued she wondered briefly how long he could hold the scowl, or maybe it was just his natural state. Now that would be a waste, especially with lips like that. "He was a gift, a noble beast." His stance softened a little again and he got a faraway look, the kind you get from a fond memory. At least the scowl had disappeared. "Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once, he swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood too." Sekhmet suppressed another smile; he looked like a proud papa.

Sekhmet's lip twitched, that smile really wanted to come out, "Of course, my apologies."

He eyed her, clearly not believing her apology and switched gears again, looking a bit angry. "It doesn't matter. If they didn't send you, and you clearly don't need healing what exactly is it you want from me?"

"So you came to Kirkwall to escape the Wardens?" She was curious now; did anyone ever leave the Wardens? She had never heard of such a thing.

The man suddenly seemed to age a couple of decades right in front of her. His face looked tired, haggard, his tall stance became and bit stooped even his head seemed bowed a bit. He let out a weary sigh. His lips parted few times before he turned his head a way. "Yes," another slow sigh."And some reasons of my own."

"I thought being a Grey Warden was for life?" She was being earnest now, something had happened to this man, and she badly wanted to know what.

Anders gave a seemingly nonchalant shrug. A deep breath seemed to breathe new life into him. "That's only partly true. The 'hopelessly tainted by the Darkspawn' and 'plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon' parts don't go away. But it turns out if you hide well, you don't need to wear the uniforms or go to the parties." His lips twitched up into a small almost smile.

Sekhmet giggled, he was cute and funny, not to mention deflecting, a trick she knew intimately. She could let him have that; it wasn't really any of her business anyway. She tried to sober herself, they were there for a reason, and the reason wasn't so she could flirt with the sexy healer. "We are part of an expedition going into the Deep Roads; any help you could give would be appreciated and could save lives."

He had been watching her with soft eyes; it seemed he had finally decided the three of them weren't a threat to him or his clinic. But at the mention of the Deep Roads his posture changed again. She was getting tired just watching him slide through all the emotions. This was a very intense man. "Listen, I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. Trust me; you're better off staying away from that place." His eyes were staring intently into hers and she noticed a slight tremor run through his hands.

"Serrah Anders," she paused, maybe it would be best to at least try to be polite with him, after all she wanted something from him and had nothing to really offer the man. Well, almost nothing, she mused biting her lip to hide her smile. "May I call you Anders?"

He gave a brief nod, eyes still locked onto hers.

"Anders, we just need to know if there are any entrances in the Free Marches, and if there are, where we can find them." Wanting to touch him, maybe as reassurance or maybe for her own reason she took a small step towards him and was surprised when his body stiffened; she wasn't even that close to him. She paused, not moving any closer. "Please," she said softly, and it sounded as foreign to her ears as it felt on her lips. No one ever accused Sekhmet Hawke of being polite.

He turned taking a few steps away from her. The deep hum of his magic filled the room again though she didn't see him casting anything. Maybe he was still worried about them after all, she became convinced he was going to turn them down flat but when he turned back he glanced over to Bethany and Varric with appraising looks. Slowly, his gaze slid back to her and his power began to dissipate again. "I have maps of the depths in this area, but they come with a price. A favor for a favor, sound fair?"

Sekhmet smiled, they had him. "Let's be specific, I don't do anything with children or animals."

Anders' lips quirked and for a moment she thought he was going to smile, but it passed quickly. "I came here to Kirkwall to help a friend. He's in the Gallows, when he told me about how the Knight Commander here was turning the Circle into a prison I told him I would come."

Sekhmet paused, chancing a glance back at Bethany, she knew her sister struggled with being an apostate. "You want to make your friend an apostate?"

Anders scowled again, "That's such a weighted term."; his words were ponderous, like just saying them was a heavy weight to be borne.

"No kidding." Bethany mumbled under her breath.

"Yes, I suppose. I want to help free him." Anders eyes glazed a little as he continued, "Andraste said magic should serve man not rule him. But I've yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men."

Sekhmet felt the familiar anger simmer to the surface, "Forcing mages into servitude is _not_ the way to prevent the rise of another Imperium." She took a breath ready to continue, only to let it out slowly when she felt Bethany's hand on her arm. She must have been raising her voice because everyone was looking at her now. Mage freedom was something she had more than a passing interest in, how could you not when both your father and your sister were mages? Although, she couldn't understand how anyone thought it was fair to lock people up just for being born.

She watched Anders' gaze as it flicked to where Bethany touched her arm, a small smile graced his well sculpted lips, the first she had seen, and though it was small she had been right, Maker, the man had beautiful lips and a beautiful smile. Distracted by his lips she nearly missed what he was saying. "That is not usually the response I get, maybe we will work together better than I expected."

He took a deep breath, "The mages in the Gallows are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, and made Tranquil for the slightest crimes. I believe the Templars know about my plan to free him. I told Karl to meet me at the Chantry tonight. Meet me there and help me to make sure that no matter how many Templars are there we all walk away free and my maps are yours."

"We'll be there, I promise." She made sure to keep her smile hidden and her eyes locked with his so he would not doubt the sincerity of her words. Anytime she could free a mage of the Templar's yoke she was more than happy to help.

Anders' eyes flicked away from hers, he nodded and turned away from her heading towards the back of the clinic, clearly dismissing them. From the look of it he was already lost in his own thoughts even before Sekhmet headed for the door, dreading the stench of Darktown. As soon as they were out the clinic with the door closed behind then Bethany stopped her.

"Are you sure about this? I mean aren't we trying to avoid the Templars?"

"I know, but we need the maps and you know how I feel about mages who don't want to be locked up. You can stay home tonight, if you'd like."

Bethany shook her head, "No, I want to help."

Sekhmet turned to Varric, "And you?"

"Sure, why not. I'm always up for a little adventure." He gave her a broad grin.

* * *

Anders watched, his chest tight as the three of them walked quickly up the steps to the Chantry. He hoped this would go smoothly, get in, get Karl and get out. The small woman's hood was up covering her stark white hair, her tattooed face was hidden in shadow but there was no mistaking her.

He had stopped by Lirene's store for supplies that afternoon and had learned that the white haired woman's name was Sekhmet Hawke, an unusual name, for an unusual looking woman. Hawke had stopped there earlier looking for Anders. Everyone knew Lirene helped the Ferelden refugees, so it was a safe bet that she knew where to find them too.

He had chastised Lirene for giving up his location with so little information about the trio. Lirene had blown it off saying that the two girls were clearly from Ferelden and one of them was a mage so they were obviously safe. She promised to be more careful in the future and gave him an extra discount to placate him.

The mage girl followed Hawke up the stairs. He liked her robes, they were cut well, showing a bit of cleavage, but also had a practical panel of chainmail down the front. She wore her long black hair loose and he was yet to see her without make-up.

When he had seen her in the clinic earlier he hadn't given her much thought, but looking at her now she seemed painfully young. He assumed she was related to Hawke, they had the same nose and cheek bones, although their coloring was almost completely opposite. Hawke was pale skinned with snow white hair and the mage had raven colored hair with smooth tanned skin.

The dwarf was beside her, his shirt opened showing a wide expanse of his chest covered with chestnut hair to match the hair on his head, which he wore shoulder length and pulled the top and sides back in a pony tail to keep it off his face. His leather coat and finely embroidered shirt made him out to be fairly well to do. And oddly for a dwarf, he had no beard, not even a mustache. Anders wasn't sure he had ever seen a dwarven man without facial hair before.

Anders looked back to Hawke as they came closer, her steps were quick, and even though her face was still hidden by her deep hood, he could almost see her smile as she reached the top of the steps. She smiled quite a lot, though she didn't seem to be dull witted as those who often smiled all too often were. Rather she seemed as though she found the whole world to be one big cosmic joke. Maybe it was.

Anders swallowed his throat suddenly dry, he was worried for Karl and now he was distracted. This could end disastrously if he couldn't regain his focus. Yes, fine she was pretty, but so were dozens of other girls. It wasn't like his situation was going to change any time soon so he took a deep breath and refocused as Sekhmet and her companions reached him at the top of the stairs.

He watched as Sekhmet reached for the door, lock picks already in hand, then she gave him an uneasy look when the knob turned easily and the door slid open. In the silence all around them her whisper seemed loud. "They don't lock the Chantry at night?"

Anders wasn't sure, some towns did and others didn't and it wasn't like he had been there before tonight. "I don't know, there are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, maybe they don't feel they need to."

She clearly wasn't pleased with the answer but there was nothing he could do about it now. They wasted no time getting into the Chantry. It took them a few minutes to find Karl, the Chantry was even larger than it looked from the outside. He watched Sekhmet get more and more uneasy as they moved through the Chantry and wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to keep quite lest she decide not to help him.

Finally, they located Karl in what seemed to be a sort of dormitory though the beds were empty. Anders was just relieved they had finally found Karl but when Karl spoke he felt his world careen sideways. Karl's voice that had always been so full of life and laughter had a flat tone to it, stripped of all of his passion.

"Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up."

Waves of anger and pain swept through him almost simultaneously as Karl turned around and Anders saw the brand on his forehead that denoted the Tranquil in Kirkwall. As always now, he struggled to fight down the rage and heard twin gasps next to him from Hawke and the mage with her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the mage girl take a few steps backwards, reaching for her staff when Karl started speaking about the Templars teaching Anders to master himself.

Anders closed his eyes when he heard the heavy clink and shuffle of armor behind him. Part of him had hoped the mage girl's precaution was unnecessary as another part couldn't wait to face the bastards who had turned his friend into this hollow man in front of him. Justice started pushing against him and Anders struggled to contain him. The Templars deserved to die, but he didn't want to hurt the other who had only come to help him. Justice surged forward again, stronger than the first time and Anders collapsed to his knees covering his face knowing he was going to lose control, unable to stop it. "No." His voice was ragged and raw with emotion.

The room exploded in a brilliant flash of sky blue fire and smoke. Justice leapt to his feet quickly; his body partially crouched as if he was an animal ready to attack. Eyes ablaze with pulsing blue light and skin cracked in dozens of different places as more of the blue spirit fire shone through unable to be contained within Anders' limited form he growled at the Templars. "You will never take another mage as you took him." Justice's voice was so loud and resonate the fixtures in the room shook with the force of it.

Anders, with only a small fraction of control glanced at those who had come with him trying to get through to Justice not to hurt them. Even as he shared the thought he could feel his reason slipping away, could feel the pure rage sweeping him away. His quick glimpse had shown his temporary companions and their reactions to Justice's appearance. Hawke looked at him curiously for a second before quickly slipping a dagger between the breast plate and helmet of a Templar as if she saw that sort of thing every day. The mage girl took a half step away from him, but other than that didn't acknowledge she had even seen him change. Only the dwarf seemed a bit perturbed.

During the brief moments he was able to cling to lucidity, as Justice brought vengeance down on the Templars, Anders watched as Hawke moved quickly through the Templars, killing them with cold efficiency, her daggers almost a blur she moved so quickly. The mage girl rained fire down on the Templars like a goddess of wrath and the dwarf had the most beautiful crossbow Anders had ever seen.

The fight hadn't lasted long but as the Templars lay dead around them and Justice subsided it left Anders feeling drained. He turned at the sound of Karl's voice from behind him, not the dull flat voice of the Tranquil, but Karl's voice.

"Anders, what did you do? It's like…you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like." Karl sounded excited and a little afraid.

"Yes, what did you do? Not the Fade part, the angry glowing bit." Hawke was smirking at him and he wanted to think she was naïve to smile at a time like this, but he had a feeling it was something else completely, though he wasn't sure what as of yet.

Anders thought briefly about answering her question but decided it was neither the time nor place. "It's true I have some," his gaze flicked to Hawke again, why did he care what she thought? "…unique circumstances. But Karl, what happened?" He easily deflected the attention back to Karl.

"The Templars here are much more diligent than they were in Ferelden. Then found a letter I had been writing to you in my room." Karl gave a sad sigh, "When you're Tranquil you never think on your life before. But…it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders, burning like a sun." His fingers reached out for a moment to Anders and a large part of him wanted to take the proffered hand, he had even started to lift his to take Karl's but Karl suddenly dropped his own. Karl had looked down at his hand before lifting his gaze back to Anders'. Pleading with both his voice and his eyes, "Please, kill me before I forget again! I don't know how you brought it back, but its fading."

"Karl, no." Anders heard his voice crack echoing the crack he felt forming through his heart.

"I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet." Karl's back was rigid with determination and his voice had taken an edge, a steeliness.

Anders' heart ached, he couldn't do it, there was no way. Hawke move close to him they were almost touching and her voice was low, barely above a whisper. She looked to the mage girl for a moment before looking at Anders with her crystalline blue eyes, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of a vast ocean of pain there. It took Anders by surprise, but he quickly pushed all thoughts of it aside as she spoke.

"My sister says being made Tranquil is a fate worse than death. Give him peace." The last three words seemed to take a great effort for her to speak.

Pain bloomed bright in his gut, she was right, but it didn't feel right to kill a man who had meant so much to him once. He felt frozen and couldn't move, it felt like a betrayal no matter how he looked at it. Gentle fingers touched his elbow and turned to face Hawke hoping for reprieve, for an answer.

He was surprised by the depth of emotion she spoke with; her words still quiet, still only for him but with an urgency now. "You crossed the sea for him, and put your life on the line for a chance to free him. You even faced down the Templars for what they did to him, he knows how you feel about him Anders and he trusts you to do what he cannot. Set him free."

A strangled half sob escaped Anders' lips before he could speak. "I'm sorry, Karl, I should have come sooner."

Karl became agitated, "Now! It's fading." His face suddenly went blank and his voice became eerily dispassionate again. "Why do you look at me like that?"

It felt a little easier this way, a little easier to pretend it was no longer Karl. He stepped close, wrapping one arm around Karl to hold him still and slipped the dagger from his waist with a shaking hand, "Goodbye," he whispered in the older man's ear and plunged the dagger quickly into his one time lover. With fumbling fingers he put the dagger back and spun away from their consoling looks as Karl's body crumpled to the floor.

"_They will pay Karl. Everyone of them will pay for this with their lives. I swear it." _The words swam in his head and steeled him enough to keep him moving without collapsing. He took a steadying breath. "We should leave before more Templars come." Not wanting to look at them he strode quickly away from Karl's body and out into the night. Anders did not slow or pause until he was back in the shelter of his clinic in Darktown. He had hoped that the three of them would leave him alone, but he knew he owed them an explanation.

As he stopped finally and turned to face them he heard Hawke's voice, "So, let me guess. This is the part where you tell me you're an abomination?"

Anders couldn't believe it, she was actually smiling. He sighed, at least she wasn't screaming. "You're wrong but not far wrong." Deep breaths, slow deep breaths would get him through the explanation, "I…this is hard to explain." Another deep breath, then another and then he told them about his friend Justice. How Justice had become trapped outside the Fade and how over time they had become friends. "He saw the injustices that mages in Thedas face every day.

As time went on the body he was in deteriorated more and more. He could no longer interact with mortals as he wished. A corpse is one thing but rotted and heavily damaged corpse is another. To live outside the Fade, he needed a host; I offered to help him…" He swallowed hard and looked down. "We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle.

"But I had so much anger, once he was inside me, he…changed." he paused and took a breath; it was amazing how hard it was to tell people that you had destroyed your friend.

"This is obviously difficult for you." Sekhmet's eyes were tender and her voice was soft again.

Anders stared at Hawke for a moment, her compassion taking him completely by surprise. It had been a long time since he had been on the receiving end of that particular emotion and Sekhmet had already been compassionate with him twice in one night. Trying not to think about how much that simple compassion meant to him he continued. "He was my friend, we wanted to help each other, instead…" his voice trailed off, he had no words for what had happened, for what he had done.

The mage girl, Hawke's sister, spoke up after a few moments of silence. "You tried to help a friend; surely no harm can come from that?"

He looked her over for a second. Young, oh yes she was terribly young, way too young to see the things she would likely see if she spent any time around him. What was she doing following Hawke around? She was too young to see all the ugliness that existed. For a moment he felt a surge of protectiveness for her. He realized it was Justice and almost shuddered as he fought down his bitterness. "I wish I still had your innocence." And he did, but it had been many years since he had been able to think in those terms.

"My anger, my rage…what I saw as my impotence in the face of the Templars, it warped him. He is a creature of vengeance and he knows no mercy." Anders hung his head, couldn't help it; he had corrupted his pure and good friend.

There was silence as the weight of what he said settled over the room. He watched their faces as they each mulled it over. The dwarf, Varric was his name, looked torn. And Hawke's sister, Bethany, looked impossibly sad, when she noticed him looking at her she began to study her nails.

Hawke openly regarded him, her eyes searched his face, he had no idea what she was looking for and was surprised yet again when she smiled. Although, he supposed he shouldn't be, she smiled quite a bit. It was her words more than anything that shocked him though.

"So," she settled her hand on her hip and canted it to the side a bit. "That explains your whole sexy tortured look."

Almost immediately Anders heard a groan from behind her, Bethany was obviously not impressed with her sister's flirting. Anders actually found himself as flattered as he was relieved and was sure his eyebrows had headed for his hairline he was so surprised. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often." He felt a small surge of warmth through him. "I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said." A small smile touched his lips and he took a moment to really look her over.

For a human woman she was short, a little wisp of a thing, her younger sister was by far the taller of the two. Her leather armor fit her close showing off the swell of her hips. Her legs were long, her thighs and calves clearly defined from all the exercise she presumably got. She looked like she might be part elf, though it didn't really mean anything, his mother was an elf yet he was a tall man.

Her shoulders were a bit square, though nothing like Sareyna's. The daggers she wielded were obviously lighter than the dual swords 'Reyna wielded. He pushed aside the feeling of loss when he thought of Sareyna, turning his concentration back to something more pleasant, to Hawke.

She was undoubtedly attractive. The tattoo on her face looked like a butterfly or maybe a phoenix and Anders felt the familiar tingle at seeing a woman with tattoos. He had really thought that he had turned this part of himself off since Justice, but the idea that she was not at all fazed by him being possessed was very attractive. Before Justice a comment like the one she had just made would have ended with them in bed together, but things were different now. And there was the odd feeling he had experienced in the clinic earlier. As they had spoken he became more and more convinced he knew her, but then again he _knew_ a lot of people from Ferelden, best not to dwell on it.

His mouth opened before he really thought out what he was going to say. "My maps are yours, as am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me…I will be waiting here." He cringed inwardly, why had he just offered to go into the Deep Roads? _"Because I'm a sucker for a smile and a pretty face. Always have been."_ Anders almost regretted his choice of words when she gave him her half smile again.

"Then I'll be seeing you real soon Anders." She gave him a bit of a wink before she turned and left.

Anders turned and sank onto one of the cots. "Karl, I'm almost glad you can't see me now. Possessed, half starved and back to following anyone who will be nice to me around like a puppy." He closed his eyes, "I hope you find peace my friend, I hope we both do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Justice For Anders**

Justice had thought for a long time before approaching Anders about a possible union. Anders was tall and lean, not a warrior, but strong and fit nonetheless. He worked his body even though there was no need, his magic was more than enough to defend him but unlike the other mages in the Wardens he trained just as hard physically as the warriors did.

He was a bit on the vain side for Justice's taste, but it wasn't as if Justice was blind to the man's beauty. Justice had spent countless hours trying to determine if Anders' looks would be a benefit or a disadvantage. He watched him when Anders wasn't looking.

He watched as the golden rays of sun kissed his skin and sparked off the lustrous shine of his hair; watched him push himself training with his staff until he was covered in sweat and his hair stuck to his head in wet strands. And he watched those who watched Anders. Their smiles and furtive glances, their nervousness and their willingness to give the man anything he wanted.

In the end he decided it didn't matter, he was a powerful mage with a strong body and a cause that pulled at Justice. So he had gone to find him to offer his help, as Anders had wanted to leave the Wardens for some time. The new Commander was an angry and bitter woman who had been nothing but cruel to the mage.

He walked into the dimly lit library, closing and locking the heavy wooden door behind him. Anders, nested deep in a russet colored wing back chair, looked up from his book at the sound, candlelight catching in his eyes enhancing their natural warmth. A frown tugged at the mage's too pretty lips and lines furrowed his high brow. His long, pale, graceful fingers placed a ribbon into the heavy tome he was reading and he closed it.

"Yes?" His voice was quiet, somber. The humor that had threaded through the man's voice for as long as Justice had known Anders had been chased away by the Commander weeks ago.

"I would speak with you." He wasn't sure why but Anders' demeanor over the last few weeks since the loss of his feline companion bothered him. The man who had returned from Amaranthine had been a much different one than Justice had come to know. He had thought Anders' constant humor annoying but this quiet, somber Anders bothered him more. It was then, upon the melancholy mage's return that Justice had first thought of leaving the Wardens with Anders.

Anders uncrossed his long legs, encased in faded grey woolen trousers because the Commander had forbidden robes. She had even made Anders stop wearing the long coats he had commissioned from Wade before Sareyna and the others had left even though he wore trousers with them. Anders sat forward and made an elegant gesture to the chair across from him.

That first conversation had gone disastrously with Anders screaming that he wouldn't become a flesh sack for Justice. He had stood over Justice, towering above him even when Justice had pushed to his feet. His warm brown eyes had darkened to a deep chocolate color, his brows had drawn together and his lips had thinned as he yelled, accusing Justice of being no better than a demon.

Justice had been angry and confused. He was no demon, and he had wanted to help Anders. A few days later he had gone to find Anders again, he had learned that in the mortal realm it was important to apologize when you upset someone and had not meant to. This time he found Anders in his room, he was curled up on the ledge of his window, his long fingers tracing patterns on the heavy glass as the rain fell outside. The fire had died down not providing much light so only the dreary light of day filtered into the room.

He did not turn to see Justice when he invited him in, just continued to stare out the window, his eyes seemingly unfocused, the darkness and rain a seeming perfect accompaniment to his mood. His inattention didn't bother Justice he continued with what he had come for. "Anders, I apologize about the other day in the library. I did not mean to upset you; I had only thought to help."

Anders gave a great sigh and leaned his forehead against the pane for a moment. "I know Justice. I shouldn't have been so angry. I've been a bit out of sorts lately."

"You miss your fel…" Justice remembered Anders preferred it when Justice used the cat's name. "Pounce."

Anders turned and stood, giving Justice a small smile, "Yes, I do. I suppose I'm just lonely."

"Perhaps we could spend time together. We are friends, is that not what friends do?" Anders was his friend and Justice wanted to help him, even if it was just to relieve the man's loneliness. He did find pain beautiful but the only thing Anders seemed to have felt for weeks was pain. It was starting to make Justice ache.

Anders settled onto the couch, folding his long legs underneath him. Justice had noticed that many of Anders' habits and movements were very different from the other men in the Keep. Although he was clearly a man his graceful movements, his fondness for curling up reminded Justice more of the women he had met in the Keep.

He had asked about it once, months ago and Anders had laughed and told him that there weren't really differences like that in the Circle. The strict lines between feminine and masculine were more apparent outside of the Circle because of the different lives men and women led. Justice had thought more people should be like Anders, he liked the way the mage moved. It reminded him of the fluid nature of his home, of the Fade.

Anders patted the couch, "Come, sit. Let's visit a while."

Justice nodded, wishing the rotting corpse he was housed in could still smile. He would have liked to show his pleasure at the invitation. He wondered what Kristoph's smile had looked like when he was alive, was it as pretty as Anders' or Nathaniel's? Even Sigrun had a pretty smile, her whole face changed when she smiled.

Justice felt heaviness pull at him. There were so many people at the Keep and they all were pretty in their own way. Their bodies, their smiles, their eyes, each one of them had something pleasing to them. All but Justice, his rotting body could in no way be construed as attractive. It was a funny thing, not something he had thought about before being trapped in the mortal realm.

"Justice, are you alright?" Anders' voice, soft and still somber spoke to him again.

Justice looked back at Anders. "You are very pretty."

A bark of laughter escaped the mage and though Justice had no idea what was funny he was glad to hear Anders laugh. And when Anders' eyes twinkled with mischief Justice was happy to see that too even though he knew that mischief would be at his own expense. "Am I now? And how did you come to that conclusion?"

Justice was confused; men and women fawned all over the mage, constantly. "Are you not aware that you are attractive?"

"I've been told a time or two; I was curious why you thought I was attractive. And why use the word pretty?" The smile still played about the man's lips and his eyes were still amused.

"Did I offend you?" Why did the man need more information? He already knew he was pretty.

"No, forget it." His smile slipped away and his eyes dropped, seeming to study the floor.

Justice didn't like it; he had enjoyed seeing the old Anders again. "Your smile is nice." The smile returned to the mage's lips and Justice relaxed a little. "They way you move is graceful and you have pretty eyes."

The mischief was back in those pretty eyes. "Justice, are you flirting with me?"

Justice stopped, thinking for a moment, flirting was something he was still learning about, but it was when two people were interested in each other in a physical way, in a way that led to copulation. "No. I do not desire to fornicate with you."

Anders laughed again. "Oh, Justice you wound me."

This was the man Justice had known, irreverent and laughing. Again, he wished he could smile, Anders almost never engaged in this type of banter with him. "In what way have I wounded you?"

"I thought I was irresistible, but it seems you are immune to my charms." He moved a little closer to Justice, those almost feminine lips curled into a smirk. His long fingers draped over his knee.

Justice absently touched those long fingers so beautiful, so graceful, so powerful, just a brief contact. "I am not immune." He realized he was touching Anders and jerked his hand away. "I apologize, that must have been unpleasant."

Anders was more serious now, watching him curiosity on his face. "It felt odd but not unpleasant."

He wasn't sure whether to be angry or grateful. "You are being kind."

Anders raised his fingers and ghosted them across Justice's brow, "Can you feel it when I touch you?" He didn't look disgusted, just curious still.

"No, not really." He heard the sadness in his voice; something he couldn't control, unlike the mortals around him.

"Does it bother you not being able to feel others?" Anders had moved closer again.

"No, I have never been able to feel things in a physical way." Not in the Fade and not in the flesh either.

"Do you ever wish you could?" Anders eyes traveled over him and Justice was relieved that he didn't look disgusted; so many others couldn't hide their revulsion.

"I am sometimes curious, others seem to enjoy it." It was true, he wondered what those mortals felt that they seemed to need to touch everything.

"Do you trust me Justice?" He was watching Justice's eyes now.

"Of course." Justice had fought beside the man often enough to know he could be trusted.

Now Anders looked nervous, shifting a little. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes," an odd question.

"I'll let you use my body for a few moments, not inside me, but I can make a connection that will let you stay in Kristoph's body and control mine, let you use all my senses. But when I want control back you have to let me have it alright?"

Justice watched the pulse in Anders' neck racing. The mage was nervous, but willing to try just to let Justice see what it was to actually be able to feel. Justice nodded stiffly, "Yes."

Anders reached out and touched his temple and began speaking words that Justice didn't really understand. A few minutes later he felt an odd sense of falling and realized he was feeling a lot of things all at once. He felt air moving across his tongue and in his nose as Anders' breathed. He felt something under his fingers and moved his fingers away from his…Kristoph's temple. He felt the soft fabric on his skin, felt the heat and damp of the room.

He would feel something and Anders' mind provided the word. He felt giddy and laughed. Surprised, he stood up, almost falling when he jerked his feet away from the chill of the hard stone floor. After a moment he became accustomed to it and walked over to Anders' long looking glass. He moved close and smiled, studying the smile, Anders' beautiful smile.

His fingers rose to touch those soft lips without really thinking about it. But those lips were soft and warm and he liked touching them. He ghosted his fingers across Anders' cheek, such soft, warm skin. He had no idea Anders' body felt so good. He looked to Anders' golden hair and felt Anders' heart speed up, it felt odd, but not unpleasant. His fingers slipped through Anders' golden tresses, soft, warm, silky.

He couldn't help himself he did it again and again. "So soft." He whispered, surprised again. He felt almost as if he were in a trance as the long strands slid through his fingers. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the man's hair. Was all hair this soft? Were all humans this soft? Soft, Anders was so soft.

Justice opened his eyes, his fingers suddenly itching to touch more of Anders. One hand pulled up Anders' tunic while the fingers of the other skated over his abdomen feeling again the soft skin, but hard planes beneath, muscle he realized. He was feeling the muscle under Anders' skin. He saw the top of a tattoo peaking out of Anders' trousers. A tattoo he had wondered about a dozen times. Anders was covered in tattoos, but there wasn't enough of this one showing to make it out.

It only took a moment for him to realize he couldn't take a look. Anders was trusting him with his body, undressing it further would be betraying that trust. Mortals were secretive about certain parts of their anatomy and he had the feeling it would make Anders uncomfortable if he were to undress his body further.

Instead, he turned and looked around the room. He saw a glass of wine on a small table and quickly moved to taste it. He almost spit it back out, it was bitter but he swallowed not wanting to waste it. And that was a whole slew of sensations in itself, the muscles moving, the feel of the liquid slipping down his throat the small bloom of warmth when it hit Anders' stomach.

He caressed the fabric on his legs; it was coarser than the tunic but still felt interesting. He wandered around the room touching everything he could see before heading back to the mirror. He pulled Anders' tunic off completely and traced the griffon tattoo on the man's chest. If he hadn't been watching in the mirror he wouldn't have even realized he had frowned. It didn't feel any different than the rest of skin on his chest, how odd.

He traced a finger over the darker color of Anders' nipple and shivered, it was an odd feeling, the flesh much more sensitive than the rest of Anders' skin and it puckered into a tight bead. Curious he tried touching the other one and it did the same thing. It was so weird, he didn't touch them again, he wasn't sure if he liked it. His gaze turned to his hands; Anders' long elegant fingers weren't half so graceful when he was moving them.

He walked away watching himself in the mirror. No, he didn't have half Anders' grace; he was disappointed but didn't dwell on it. He was feeling all sorts of things and it was amazing. Spotting Anders' bed he crawled into it sinking into its softness. He slid his fingers through Anders hair again, fanning it out, then dropped down to caress Anders' bare chest and abdomen again. Anders' lower abdomen had a thin line of hair disappearing into his trousers. He slid his fingers over the hair, surprised it was not as soft and silky as the hair on the man's head.

He stopped when he felt a tightening in his chest. Not his, but Anders. He was doing something that Anders was uncomfortable with. He stopped touching Anders' body. "I apologize; I am ready to stop now." He felt like he was falling again then all the sensations he had been feeling were gone.

Looking over at Anders, still lying on the bed he felt a moment of regret, a lot of things had felt wonderful but he hadn't really taken the time to feel or experience anything that was less than nice. As soon as he had felt Anders' discomfort he had given up altogether, not wanting to feel that tightness, that discomfort. And he felt ashamed, not something he remembered ever feeling before. He had left the body as soon as he felt any discomfort, and yet all these months he had found pain beautiful.

Anders sat up then grabbed his tunic and dragged it on over his head. His longs legs moved gracefully, all Anders' own elegance and grace returned to the limbs, and he moved to sit down on the couch with Justice again. He sat much farther away from Justice this time and he felt a pang of regret, he had made the mage uncomfortable.

"Again, I apologize Anders. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, but I do not completely understand what I did that you were uncomfortable with." And it was true, he had left the mage's trousers on to shield the part of his body that Justice knew men were sensitive about. He had not looked on the mage's naked body or touched it. Before Anders opened his mouth to reply he realized the last thing he had touched before Anders had become anxious. "The hair on your abdomen, you did not like me touching it?"

Anders gave him a small smile, an offering Justice was sure. "I am very sensitive there. I did not want to have a reaction that would embarrass us both."

Justice was even more confused, "Embarrass? Why would we be embarrassed?"

Anders chuckled lightly, "Not important. Tell me what you think about what you experienced."

And so they had spent the night talking about it. Anders shared himself with Justice several more times letting Justice taste foods and pet animals, even letting Justice feel what it was like when Anders' exerted his body when he worked with his staff. It was a feeling Justice enjoyed, the work and the euphoria from it, even the fatigue afterwards was satisfying. Anders called these moments of sharing himself with Justice experiments.

Anders always kept his emotions hidden when Justice was experiencing things through him. They never had another incident like the first one where Anders became worried. And as they spent more time together Anders started to smile a little more, seeming to enjoy the things he was able to do for Justice.

He even opened up to Justice a bit talking about how he missed the Commander, Lieutenant and even the Elvin assassin. He spoke of the Circle a bit, though Justice noticed he was very careful to never speak of himself. Even still Justice could not help but get angry on Anders' behalf, on the behalf of all mages. What was done to them, what they suffered was unconscionable.

At first Anders would just roll his eyes when Justice spoke of getting rid of the Circle and freeing mages. But as the weeks went on he watched as Anders began to really listen, and then it was Anders speaking to him about what could be done, about what he considered the real evil of the Circle and the Chantry. It was mesmerizing watching him speak so passionately and eventually he brought up the two of them merging again as a way to give Anders the help he would need to effect the change he wanted to see in the Circle.

At this point Justice wasn't even sure how they had come to an agreement. He was missing a lot from the last few weeks he was in his own body, mostly he remembered fear that he was losing his hold on Kristoph's rotting corpse and would end up either dissipating completely or being thrust back into the Fade, neither of which he really wanted.

He thought he had an idea of what to expect from the time he had spent sharing Anders' senses, but the reality was far different. Justice had learned about the detriments of having a living mortal body rather quickly. His first foray with Anders had been dispatching those who had tried to kill them. The sword that Rolan had pushed into his chest had not affected Justice at all, he had barely even felt it, and so he had almost forgotten about it as he had killed the rest of the group. Saving his and Anders' life from the Templars that Rolan had summoned.

He had retreated when their enemies were dead and his anger was spent . Anders nearly died. A sword that could not harm him could nearly kill his host. Anders still bore a scar as a reminder of that painful lesson. The mage had nearly bled to death on that field as he tried to heal himself faster than he bled out. Exhausted and short of blood Anders had to push himself to his feet anyway and flee before he was found.

So, they had both learned that Justice needed to remove anything that had pierced them before giving Anders back control of his body. That way there were no injuries when Anders regained control, neither of them wanted their partnership to end over such a small thing, over forgotten injuries. Anders' living body required much more attention and care than had Kristoff's deceased one.

Justice also learned about necessary bodily functions such as excreting waste, a vile thing. Even sweat had bothered Justice at first. Kristoff's skin had been dead and so Justice had felt nothing. But Anders' skin, body was alive and Justice felt everything. Other than those experiments with Anders Justice had never felt the ground beneath his feet, the fabric on his body or the wind against his face. Being touched by others unsettled Justice and he shied away from it.

Anders had fought against Justice fiercely on that, he craved touch but eventually he became accustomed to not being touched by anyone. Though he ached horribly from its loss, Anders came to realize it was safer for everyone. There were so many things that were difficult for Justice, it was nice he could enjoy a few. Eating was a wonderful experience. There were so many flavors, so many textures and even the food that Anders assured him was quite awful was a delight to Justice who was only too happy for Anders' Warden appetite.

Though that same appetite came to be a detriment as access to food became scarce for the duo. Anders constantly ached for food and always felt tired. Eventually, Justice learned how to override Anders' aches and fatigue and was able to keep them going without Anders being in so much discomfort.

But those things took time as Justice tried to cope with Anders' mind. Anders' mind had been the biggest shock for Justice; he had not been prepared for the sheer magnitude of Anders' thoughts and desires. Anders had always kept himself apart during their experiments, but once joined he was no longer able to maintain that distance, his and Justice's thoughts blended together.

There were hundreds of new experiences for him and many hurdles for him to jump but the thing that Justice had the most difficulty with was the dizzying speed with which Anders thought. It seemed a thought had barely formed when there was a new one and a new one. Justice was left feeling like he was spinning with no direction.

He had known the mage was smart, most everyone at the Keep did, but having a front row view of his thoughts Justice was pretty sure the word genius applied. He tried for weeks to follow all of Anders thoughts only to end up confused and unsure of what was going on around them. His mind just didn't work like Anders' so he had shut himself off from much of the mage's mind, just skimming the surface for things that applied to their immediate situation.

And the man seemed insatiable in so many ways; he always wanted more knowledge, more time, more physical contact. Anders was what Justice had heard referred to as a man of strong passions. What Anders wanted most of all, the thing that burned through the man's psyche was his deep desire for love, not just to be loved but to be able to love someone in return. That he had never been in love was a great source of sadness for the mage.

Nor was Justice prepared for the onslaught of Anders' memories. Kristoff's memories were echoes where Anders' were screams, all too often in the dark. Justice raged every time he stumbled upon a new memory where Anders was hurt in some way. The first few days were a dizzying series of rages against an invisible opponent.

Anders had wandered in the woods afraid of exposing anyone to his new found wrath. For days Justice and Anders had both stumbled around scorching the woods with impotent fire as Justice struggled with Anders' memories. There was no way to fight against a memory, and Justice had felt himself warping, changing under the weight of a fury that strong with nothing to vent against.

Justice desperately tried to cling to what he had been, searching through Anders' mind for moments of kindness, moments of joy. But the message only became clearer the deeper Justice dug. The Templars were an injustice, a pestilence on the world. They abused their charges and stole children from loving parents. For each moment of kindness and joy Anders had known, he knew a dozen more of pain and loneliness.

And when he found the memories from the year Anders spent in solitary a white-hot rage had filled Justice forging him into something new, something stronger than before, something fueled by his fury and hate of the Templars. Monsters, they were monsters, they needed to die, every last one of them deserved nothing less than a long painful death. Did even demons torment and torture their victims as brutally as the Templars did? Did they spend half so much time reveling in their victim's pain? And these men…no these evil creatures were supposed to guard the mages? Justice would send them all to the Void, he would not spare them an ounce of pain, they deserved it and so much more.

Even as an adult the Templars had parted Anders from those he loved, from his family. When Sareyna, Alistair and Zevran had left the Wardens Anders had stayed behind to save them from being hunted by the Templars. He had stayed behind to fight the monsters so his family wouldn't be hunted by worse ones. In the face of the fiendish, inhuman nature of the Templars and their deeds Justice felt himself pulling free of the morality he had always clung to. How could one believe in honor and fairness in a world where such things existed?

He had thought he understood things like smiles and laughter, he had seen them on many faces at Vigil's Keep. They denoted someone who was happy. Anders was anything but happy yet he smiled and laughed more than anyone else that Justice had met since leaving the Fade. Anders used his smile as Alistair had used his shield. Months he had spent among the mortals but he had not understood them, not even a little.

None of Anders' emotions made sense to Justice. Where Kristoff's body had fond and loving memories of Aura and Justice had spent much time with her to try to capture some of that feeling, Anders emotions were all a jumble, anger and resentment mixed with desire and love. Nothing was clear; there was nothing Anders felt that was not accompanied with bitterness, with a sense of loss.

Justice wondered if that unhappiness was the reason that Anders indulged so often in the vices of the flesh. The man had seemed to find some sort of shallow comfort in it, but it had unsettled Justice too much and he had reacted badly, nearly hurting the man Anders was seeking his shallow solace with. A combination of fear and a less than firm grasp of Anders' magic would have been disastrous if Anders hadn't felt the change and jumped away from the man sparing him.

Since then Justice had made sure Anders was aware of exactly how he felt about sexual contact. Anders had never argued with him about it, though Justice had felt the man's sense of loss. Justice had felt regret at constraining Anders so, but he could not tolerate such intimacy. Even Anders' sexual thoughts were difficult to handle, Justice doing his best to quash them whenever they popped into the mage's mind.

It was not to be the last constraint that Justice needed to insist upon. Alcohol was another thing that Anders indulged in that was an unpleasant experience for Justice. The loss of coordination and Anders confused thoughts had terrified Justice. He believed Anders was dying the first time. When he realized he would never grow accustomed to it he had forbidden it. When Anders persisted he had learned how to filter the foul substance from Anders' body, not letting the effects grab hold of them. Anders had been furious, but unable to prevent Justice from doing so.

That had been the first time he had felt animosity from Anders about their union. The first time he had truly felt that Anders regretted it. Justice had taken away any comfort Anders might have found, any reprieve from their life and his dark thoughts and he resented Justice for it. He hated all the restrictions and restraints once he realized he could not impose his will on Justice even when the spirit could impose his will on Anders.

It seemed however that the need for constraint went both ways, even though it was voluntary on Justice's side. Although Justice could feel through Anders skin, it was apparently a muted thing. Justice did not feel things like heat and cold as Anders did and after several accidents had needed to defer to Anders so he would no longer hurt the mage.

A living body was so much more difficult to navigate than a dead one, although, it required much less energy to move. When he was in control, which Anders fought him for more and more, he barely thought about a movement and Anders' body was carrying it out. It was liberating. Inside Anders' body sharing it with the mage he felt more free than he had since he had left the Fade. Eventually, he had realized that his controlling the body made Anders feel trapped so he stopped; only taking control when he felt it was needed, when action needed to be taken against their enemies. After that things between the two of them had improved.

Anders was still nervous about hurting people accidentally, or rather Justice hurting people that Anders did not want to hurt, for the most part though as they settled into Darktown they had found a balance that worked for both of them. It bothered Justice that Anders was so sad and alone, it bothered him even more that Anders felt he had in some way harmed Justice. No matter the assurances he gave, Anders persisted in his own twisted beliefs.

Then Hawke had come into their life, he had been grateful for her at first. She was an ally in their war against the Templars, even going with them to try to save Karl and killing the Templars with no mercy. She had been magnificent. But then she had started coming by more and more taking Anders all over the city to perform tasks, tasks that had nothing to do with helping mages or killing Templars for the most part.

Anders had tried to convince him they needed the money but Justice wasn't sure he agreed. The clinic was Anders' little pet project, something Justice had allowed because he had taken so much from Anders and the mage seemed to settle and relax more, his mind more clear when he was able to heal others. Now Justice thought he was just using the clinic as an excuse to be with Hawke.

Most of the words stayed in Anders head, never spoken aloud but Justice recognized the point of them nonetheless. Anders liked the woman, he found her smart and funny yes, but more than that he wanted to bed her. Justice was constantly subjected to images of Anders and the woman naked and entwined in some way. Justice had learned more about Anders' sexual proclivities in the few weeks since they had met Hawke then he had in the months the two of them had been bonded.

Anders loved how small she was, loved her snow white hair and her purple painted lips. He adored everything about the woman though he often denied it even to himself. Justice did everything he could to discourage Anders from spending time with or even thinking about the woman. If Anders thought about it enough Justice was sure the man would attempt to bed her, unable to control his long suppressed urges. If things didn't change he was going to have to start asserting himself again. He would not allow her to distract Anders from their cause.


	4. Chapter 4

**Collecting Crazy-She Looks So Sweet**

The sun had been baking Anders inside his long coat for two days but he wasn't about to strip down to the thin clothes he wore underneath. Heavy peacock blue and light tan leather was the only protection he had from Hawke's hungry gaze and from revealing how those long lingering looks affected him. His body very much appreciated all the attention, even if his mind didn't.

Being free of the dirty floors, poisoned air and heartbreaking sobs of Darktown felt good and his body was reveling in it. Late on the first day he had suffered through several coughing fits as his lungs purged the stale, putrid air of Darktown to instead replace it with the fresh mountain air of Sundermount. The sallow color of his skin had already started deepening to a light tan wherever it was exposed to the hot Kirkwall summer sun. Even his hair, which had become darkened and lackluster over the months was lightening from the intensity of the sun.

The verdant greens and splashes of color on the mountain were gorgeous and he found himself gawping like…well like a mage who had spent most of his life locked in a tower. Even the sky overhead looked lighter, brighter to him. Maybe it was just that he rarely ventured from Darktown, or maybe Sundermount really was that beautiful. Either way he let himself enjoy it, to revel in it. It was a rare treat for him to be able to leave Darktown and wander the countryside freely without constantly being afraid the Templars would find him.

Searching for a clan of Dalish, he followed Hawke as they trekked up the mountain even engaging the small white hired woman in conversation periodically. It was hard for him to read her, to know what she was thinking or how she would respond. Sometimes it was nothing but teasing words and innuendo and other times she seemed much more interested in what he was thinking. By her biting wit and sly smiles he got the impression that she was a smart woman but it definitely wasn't the impression she gave most of the world.

Her smiles were frequent and he found he enjoyed all of them, even those garnered at his own expense. Mostly she spoke with her sister, teasing the younger girl a bit or just making her laugh. Her bond to her sister surprised him; it wasn't something he would have imagined had he not seen it himself. Hawke was always quick with a smart comment or a laugh while Bethany seemed much more serious. But the younger Hawke seemed relaxed away from the pressures of the city.

Varric was mostly silent and Anders felt the dwarf's eyes on him every so often. He would ignore it for a time before turning to see if there was something that perhaps Varric wanted. As the sun reached its zenith on their second day he moved closer to Varric. "Instead of wondering and worrying, just ask."

Varric watched him silently for a few more minutes before he spoke. "I'm not sure what I want to ask yet. I thought I did after we left the Chantry, but now I watch you and…well I'm not sure."

"When you decide I'll be as honest as I can, so do yourself a favor and don't ask anything you don't really want to know." He kept his tone light, casual though inside he was worried. What would Varric think of him, would he turn Anders in?

Varric chuckled, "Thanks for the warning, Blondie."

Anders raised a brow inquisitively, "Blondie?"

Varric just smiled.

Having pulled his attention away from the task at hand as long as he could he finally thought again about what they were doing up on the mountain. The group was looking for a clan of Dalish Elves so Hawke could deliver an amulet to them. Anders, though grateful to be away from Kirkwall, was less than thrilled to be looking for the elves. His experiences with the Dalish had never been what you would consider good.

Velanna had been a right bitch. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt a pang of guilt. Velanna had been a damned good Warden as well as a damned good mage. Her knowledge had probably saved Zevran and Sareyna's lives, and had at the very least saved them from serious harm from their dreams. And the woman's spells had saved Anders and Zevran from certain death during the battle with the Darkspawn at the Keep, a battle where she had presumably given her life to defend the Keep. The least he could do was show a little respect for the dead, or the presumed dead.

He glanced up and looked around, still not seeing any signs of an encampment. Chances were the Dalish would be long gone. It had been a little over a year since she had been in Lothering, but Hawke had promised to deliver the strange amulet and she was determined to do it.

As the sun started to set Hawke's sharp eyes spotted smoke, they all quickened their pace and found themselves at the Dalish encampment before dark. The Dalish were as pleasant as he remembered, telling them to leave before they had even stated their business.

Thankfully, they had been told the Keeper was waiting for Hawke's arrival and the elves eventually let them pass. They found the Keeper towards the back of the encampment staring thoughtfully into a fire, worry lines creasing her brow. As Hawke approached she looked up and the lines smoothed out in favor of a small smile that didn't quite reach the woman's eyes.

"Let me get a look at you?" The Keeper's voice was gentle and instantly reminded Anders of a grandmother. She stepped close to Hawke and looked her over carefully. Something flickered in the Keeper's gaze and then was gone; her voice as she spoke sounded a little strained. "There is a light in your heart, human. Don't let it go out, you will need it."

Anders raised a brow, curious, that had certainly sounded ominous. And he didn't like how the Keeper was looking at Hawke, like she was confused and wasn't sure what to make of her. Perhaps, it was just that she wasn't used to humans. He really didn't believe that was the case, her name was familiar to him so she must have had some contact with people, but he remained quiet as the Keeper spoke again.

"Tell me how this burden fell to you, child." And now he could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Is this amulet magic, I mean what exactly is it?" Hawke momentarily seemed to ignore the Keeper's question as she turned the amulet back and forth in her hand, looking at it from different angles. Anders watched as it seemed to catch the fire light giving it an eerie glow for a moment.

The Keeper's eyes followed the amulet closely, Anders felt his gut tighten and twist. He very much wanted to drag them all away from the Keeper and out of the camp quickly. Taking a deep breath he tried to settle himself, their task was almost over afterall. Once it was concluded they could leave and set up camp away from whatever was going on with the Dalish and their Keeper.

"It is a promise child. Made by one whose word still has weight and therefore it has terrible power." Her voice was filled with sorrow and a kind of longing. "There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept, remember that."

Hawke was quiet for a moment and Anders noticed her spine straightened and her shoulders tensed, her fingers caressing a knife on the side of her belt. Perhaps, she felt the same unease as he did, though she still responded to the Keeper with humor. "A dragon fell from the sky, charred some Darkspawn, then asked me to bring you this amulet." She shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance. "No big deal."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bethany cover her eyes with her hand and shake her head while Varric chuckled. She might not have fooled Anders, but Bethany and Varric at least didn't seem to notice how tense Hawke was. His gaze held on the Keeper waiting for a response, as the seconds ticked by he started gathering his power, not quite letting the lightning dance across his fingertips but he was close, so very close.

Hawke spared a glance back at him her eyes glancing to his fingers then back to his face with a small smile as if she knew what he was doing. His heart stumbled in his chest, tripping over itself in his confused emotions, the thought that she knew was exciting and terrifying. Most mages couldn't even tell when he was about to cast. The Keeper's attention remained focused on Hawke and when she turned back to face the Keeper she finally spoke up.

Her eyes dropped from Hawke's face lingering near her boots. "You must be lucky."

Hawke snorted, he was sure it was meant to be in amusement but all Anders heard was bitterness, the sound of it as well known to him as the lightning he had been casting since before he was taken to the Circle. As if the sound literally tugged on him he stepped forward stopping just a half step behind Hawke's left shoulder, though he towered over her. If it came to it he would protect this woman who had pulled him from the dark and those she cared about.

Other than a quick glance to him Keeper Marethari didn't react to his movement. Her gaze moved back to Hawke's face. When she began to speak again it was softer than before, Justice shivered in delight in Anders head; he liked the idea that someone might be afraid of Anders. Anders snarled back, angry because that delight was exactly why Anders would spend his life alone isolated from anyone he could even call friend. Justice liked to cultivate fear in anyone he felt might pose a threat.

She didn't look all that cowed to Anders anyway. Irritation flooded through him again making him grind his teeth when she informed Hawke that her end of the bargain wasn't fulfilled as of yet. Apparently, Hawke still needed to cart the eerie amulet up the rest of the Maker forsaken mountain and perform some sort of ritual with it.

Hawke scowled, "What are you talking about, is this some ritual you're going to teach me?"

"My First will go with you and she will perform the ritual. She is already on the path waiting for you."

"First what?" Anders snapped, he couldn't seem to control his annoyance, perhaps because he was tired, or maybe because his feet ached, more than likely though it was the fact that he felt like he was missing some vital piece of information.

Marethari didn't look at him, irritating him further, instead she spoke to Hawke. "I believe your people would call her my apprentice."

Hawke sighed long, slow and exaggerated then she turned to face him with a smirk. "Feel like taking a walk with me? I hear the mountain is beautiful this time of night."

And just like that his anger and irritation were gone. He had no idea how she did it but she always seemed to know when he was wound up. Not that it was always a good thing, sometimes she just liked to wind him up more, but other times like now she did her best to calm him and the savage beast inside of him.

No smile touched his lips but he was sure the tension lines that had been around his mouth had softened. "Sure," he jerked his head towards where Bethany and Varric stood. "Do we have to bring the kids?"

Her eyes shone in the firelight and she giggled, and sweet Maker he liked that sound. Not a girlish twitter or a vapid sound just unabashedly amused. And while she was giggling her sister was making a disgusted huff. Varric just smiled and shook his head. Maybe the fresh air was getting to him, he usually tried to refrain from teasing Hawke back, she didn't need any encouragement to flirt.

He hoped the trek up the rest of the mountain would be short, it was dark and he was tired and aching. It had been a while since he had done any serious travelling by foot and his feet were killing him. As they started up the trail he hoped that if the hike was too far someone would ask Hawke to stop for the night. He tossed a hopeful glance to Varric who was now scowling and to Bethany who was covered in sweat, it would be better if one of them asked, they had both known Hawke longer.

Less than a hundred yards further up the mountain they came upon the Keeper's apprentice and he became hopeful that this would indeed be a short trip. The girl was slight, even for an elf, almost frail looking and like most elves she looked impossibly young, though she was probably older than he was. Zevran had looked to be Anders' age but had turned out to be much, much older. A flicker of pain shot through him at the thought. _"Not me, another man, another life."_ He reminded himself.

Studying the girl again he took stock trying to see if there were any reasons for him to worry. Her short brown hair looked almost black in the dim light of his wisp. She wore it tucked behind her long pointed delicate looking ears and her Vallaslin was dark, so it was probably fairly new. He might have been wrong about her age she might have just reached adulthood in the last few years. She introduced herself as Merrill and something about her rubbed Anders the wrong way immediately.

Maybe it was the way she babbled or the way she seemed suddenly shifty when Hawke asked if she had heard a strange noise a noise, coincidentally, the rest of them had all heard like a dozen whispers all at the same time. Then again, it could just be he instinctively didn't trust Dalish women; they were all crazy in his experience. As they travelled up the mountain they learned that Merrill was also a mage, oddly it didn't make him like her any better.

They came upon another elf, a man waiting impatiently by a campfire in a clearing. On seeing Merrill he stood and came close enough that everyone could see the barely contained disgust on his face. That was certainly interesting. "So, the Keeper finally found someone to take you from here." His voice dripped venom.

"Yes," Merrill's eyes were defiant and she held her back straight but he heard the tremor in her voice.

"Good," the elf snapped before he turned to Hawke, "complete your task Shemlen," again that disgust, "we cannot be rid of this one too soon."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow and watched the elven man stomping down the mountain. She shook her head and smirked, "Such a sweet man wishing us a safe and speedy journey."

Varric snorted, "Did I miss the safe part?"

"Are they always this angry?" Bethany asked quietly.

"Yes," Anders responded.

Merrill chimed in at the same time. "No."

Sekhmet fixed him with her crystalline blue eyes the challenge there clear, "Have a lot of experience with the Dalish do you?"

"More than most humans," and it was true, most never saw a single Dalish.

Hawke regarded him and he braced himself for an argument but none came. She just nodded and turned back to Merrill. He had no idea why he was always expecting an argument from her, maybe just because he never really knew what she was thinking. It was hard to imagine she pictured him naked half as often as she claimed she did.

And why would she with his dingy hair that had been angrily chopped at when Justice had complained one too many times about his vanity. His vanity, Justice had certainly broken him of that little habit. He could barely stand to look at himself anymore. Sallow skin on a frame withering from constant hunger, on his thinner face his long nose looked like a blade. His lips were constantly chapped from him chewing on them and dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes. He might have been handsome once, but no longer. He had no illusions about that, but he appreciated her flattery nonetheless.

Merrill, clearly in a hurry moved in front of them crossing the clearing quickly and he prepared to follow, further up this mountain that seemed to reach higher than the clouds themselves. Hawke's hand grabbed onto his wrist and he had to stop himself from shivering. Skin to skin contact was a rarity for Anders and he just let himself enjoy it ignoring Justice's complaints.

"Hey, wait up. It's getting pretty dark and there's already a fire here. Let's call it a night and we'll head up in the morning." Her voice carried easily across the clearing.

Merrill stopped though she looked panicked, "It's not a good idea to keep Asha'bellanar waiting."

"Look Merrill, I understand, but I'm not going to get lost in the dark and fall off a mountain for anyone. Not even a scary witch," Still friendly, but there was steel in it this time.

Argue some more, she's still touching me, so good, so warm, calloused and small, much smaller when compared to his hands. He stayed perfectly still, perhaps she had forgotten she had a hold of him and if he didn't move she would leave her hand there longer. Opening eyes he hadn't realized he had closed, he looked down at her.

That smirk on her lips again, she slowly slid her hand down, fingers slipping over the back of his hand until she squeezed his fingers softly. She knew, knew how much he was enjoying her touch. Got to learn to be careful, he always felt vulnerable and a little needy around her. It would only bring disaster on them both.

When she finally let go of his hand he quickly sat down and began removing his boots before anyone could argue otherwise. Merrill seemed upset, just standing there for a long time but she didn't argue. Varric and Bethany looked as relieved as he felt. Being touched was nice but he was tired and sore. With his boots off he cast a quick heal on his aching feet. He turned to the others, no reason not to be friendly "Anyone need healing?"

Varric nodded and sighed gratefully as his magic settled over him. "And I thought I was in pretty good shape." The dwarf chuckled.

Bethany had pulled her boots off as well and was reclining back on her elbows, looking completely exhausted. "Sekhmet never gets tired; I swear she could walk for a week straight and still be whistling." The look she gave her sister was part resentment and part pride. He let a quick heal settle over her, as well as a very small rejuvenation, poor thing looked beyond exhausted.

Hawke settled down on the ground between him and Varric, "Actually, I was going to ask for a little healing myself. My back is aching and my feet are killing me. I was just hoping we could get this over with today. But this fire was just too good to pass up."

Not really thinking about it he grabbed at her laces and started pulling them free. He caught himself but untied them anyway it would look odd if he suddenly stopped. She was watching, he could feel it, it felt almost as good as her skin had. When he pulled her boots and socks off she flexed her foot wiggling her toes. Seizing the opportunity he gripped her right foot lightly and put gentle pressure on the arch.

She moaned arching her back, the picture of erotic bliss. His mouth went completely dry; he had barely touched her, what would she be like if he tasted her sex. Nothing he did shook that image from his head; he was heading into very dangerous waters.

"Sweet Maker Anders, your hands are amazing. Keep this up and I'll be climbing into your bedroll tonight."

He dropped her foot, too much, it was too much, too intimate. Justice was right, he mustn't touch her. Teasing, she's only teasing he told himself, but he had heard a kernel of truth in her voice. She really was thinking about crawling into his bedroll. And much as he would enjoy bedding her he wouldn't let Justice hurt her.

She gave him a surprised look and pain flickered in her eyes for a moment then was gone just as fast. "Wow, I had no idea I was so repugnant." She quipped, the humor falling a little flat.

He had hurt her, but it was better to hurt her feelings than to let Justice hurt her, or worse. Instead of responding he pulled his waterskin from his belt and took a long pull on it. What he wouldn't have given for something stronger, much, much stronger. Justice was still babbling away in his head and he let himself be distracted by the chatter.

Everyone else pulled out their bedrolls, the general consensus that it was too dark to try to set up their tents. Hawke was seated on hers; she had been quiet for a while watching Merrill who was nervously picking at her clothes. She hadn't spoken again, but kept looking up the path. He still couldn't put his finger on why he didn't like her.

Hawke finally spoke to her. "Did you want to share a bedroll with me Merrill? I won't bite."

He watched as Merrill looked longingly at Hawke before glancing back at the ground. Wow, that surprised the Void out of him; the little thing was lusting after Hawke? Where were these women before he had merged with Justice?

It was like fate was being deliberately cruel throwing all of these women, who didn't seem to care who they found attractive, into his life only after he could no longer properly appreciate them. A little flicker of jealousy rushed through his blood. Not because of Hawke of course, but because they were still free to bed whoever they wanted.

Merrill shook her head, "No, thank you. I'll be fine. It's a warm night and I'm used to sleeping under the stars." He almost smiled, she really wanted to bunk down with Hawke, but was more afraid of her. And why did that make him feel good?

Hawke shrugged and snuggled down, clearly not caring one way or another, which also made him feel good. She might not really want him, but she didn't want anyone else either. "Suit yourself."

He stared into the sky at the thousands of stars over head and tried not to let his mind wander too much. The night sky often made him think of 'Reyna and sometimes Zevran and Alistair. It was hard not to think about all of the times he had spent the night in the middle of nowhere with the Wardens or star gazing with 'Reyna or Zev. He missed them more than he liked to admit. He hadn't even had a good laugh since Zevran had left with Sareyna and Alistair.

And now he never would, his own anger coming back to bite him in the ass. It was nights like tonight that he was glad he knew the truth about the "Maker" otherwise he might think the man had a personal vendetta against him. He spared a second for Morrigan before pushing her from his mind, he wasn't the only one with problems and it was good to remember that. Poor girl, he still looked for her from time to time, but had lost hope a long time ago.

Right, the night sky, beautiful as it was, only held bad memories for him. Rolling onto his side he caught Hawke looking at him. "What?" His voice sounded a little terse, but she had surprised him.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" She asked, unconcerned by his tone of voice.

He shrugged another unpleasant topic, "I don't need much sleep since Justice."

Her hair was loose, and the white took on tones of orange from the fire and blues from the moonlight. Fire and Ice. "Yet, you always look exhausted."

He tore his gaze from her hair to answer her, sort of. "Do I?"

Hawke nodded.

Where was her smile he wondered? "It doesn't add to my sexy tortured look?"

Hawke giggled, it was like music. "Well maybe the tortured part. You should take better care of yourself, Anders."

This needed to stop, the idea that she cared for him, that she fancied him was foolish and he had to stop trying to read into everything she said. "You need to spend less time worrying about me; seems to me you have enough things to worry about as it is, with your family and all."

She sat up a bit, eyes still fixed on him but more intently now. "Are you planning on staying in Kirkwall, Anders?"

He was confused by her question as well as her sudden intensity. "Why wouldn't I?"

His heart ratcheted up when she licked her lower lip then shrugged, "I know that you said you came here for Karl, I was just wondering if now that he was gone you were planning on staying."

Karl, he had nearly forgotten, it had only been a few weeks and he had nearly forgotten the man bewitched as his was by the woman in front of him. He pushed himself upright; pulling his knees up to his chest, lying down seemed too informal suddenly. "I have no plans on leaving. There are other reasons that I came here."

"Like mages?" Her eyes were gleaming now, almost over bright.

Watching her he felt anxious even knowing Hawke's feeling on mages and Templars. "And if that is one of the reasons?"

Hawke glanced around them, taking in their sleeping companions. He hadn't realized they were the only two awake. She freed herself from her bedroll and jumped to her feet. "Come with me."

Hesitantly, he stood and followed her, being alone with her was probably a bad idea, but he did it anyways. When they were out of sight of their little makeshift campsite she slowed. "Where are we going?" He asked, wondering what exactly she wanted with him.

She stopped and turned to him, "I just don't want to wake them up." she soothed.

"Alright." He was willing to play along for a bit, but the look she had given her sister told him it was more than she didn't want to wake anyone up.

"If you're here to help the mages, let me help you." Her voice was surprisingly earnest as was her expression.

That honestly was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting anything. "I'm a healer, Hawke." He wasn't even completely sure where to start yet. He had been so set on making sure the Wardens weren't after him and setting up his clinic he hadn't come up with a plan beyond saving Karl, which he had failed spectacularly at.

She licked her lips again and stepped forward closing a bit of the distance between them. "You told me that you wanted to help free the mages. It was why you and Justice merged. Let me help." He could hear the first notes of annoyance in her voice.

"Aren't you busy enough trying to raise money for the expedition?" He felt his own annoyance rising, not completely sure why but she acted like it was such a simple thing; just let her help like it wouldn't entail all sorts of complications for both of them. "Why do you want to help me?" He wasn't a toy for her amusement; there were things he needed to do. When the time came when he had a plan he didn't want someone giving a half assed effort to help him, a half hearted commitment in these things could get people killed.

Her eyes flicked back and forth over his face, still over bright before she abruptly turned away from him as if she didn't want to look at him. Was she planning on lying to him? When she spoke he realized she didn't want him to see her face. He didn't need to see her face; he heard the pain in her voice. "I made a promise to my father not long before he died."

"You promised your father to free mages?" It seemed an odd thing to promise and even more strange if her father had actually asked it of her.

She shook her head, her back still to him. "I promised to keep Bethany free, no matter what."

He wanted to comfort her but had a feeling she would just resent him for it. "You don't need to free all mages to do that."

She turned back to face him, her eyes were glistening but she hadn't shed any tears. "My father hated the Circle. I spent most of my life listening to him talk about it, about being treated as less than human, about being caged like a criminal forever just for being born. He told me once when I was little that the Templars expected mages to never experience anger or love. Mages were supposed to be content with their lot in life and be grateful for being allowed to exist at all. And from what you've told me, he was right. So why should I stand back and leave all of those mages locked up while Bethany is free?" There was so much anger in her voice it reminded him of those last days before he and Justice had bonded.

He sighed, "Now you sound like Justice."

"Is he wrong?" She retorted a little hotly, her anger pointed at him now.

"If he was I wouldn't be here." The words came slowly, and a bit reluctantly.

"Then let me help." The anger already gone again, he would need to be careful with her, she was a bit capricious.

A slow deep breath through his nose while he thought about it, he wasn't even sure what he was doing yet so he stalled. "Let me think about it."

She nodded, seemingly mollified. "Come on, let's get back. I'm getting cold." She held out her hand to him.

He wanted to take it, he really did but he had already been far too intimate with her today. Being very ungentlemanly he passed her and moved towards their camp. Once in their bedrolls she returned to staring at the fire and he to watching the stars. Hours seemed to pass and he was sure he would get no sleep at all but he must have eventually drifted off because he jerked awake when someone grabbed his arm.

Hawke's yelp shook off the fog of sleep and he pulled back the lightning spell quickly. He jerked upright, "I'm sorry. Are you alright?" He was mortified.

She chuckled, "I'm fine, that'll teach me to disturb your beauty sleep." She tossed a small cloth bag to him. "Have a snack; we're heading out in a few."

"Roasted hazelnuts? Thanks." He grabbed a handful and popped them into his mouth, he was rather hungry, though wasn't he always? The group packed everything up quickly and resumed their trek up the mountain and he felt glad. As much as he liked being out of Kirkwall and enjoying the beautiful views of the mountain, something felt wrong on this particular mountain.

They had only been on the move for a little over an hour when they came to a magical barrier blocking the path. He felt his stomach tighten into a knot, the higher they climbed the more it seemed that the Dalish Keeper hadn't told them everything. Beside him Hawke practically hummed with tension, probably feeling the same way about the situation as he did.

And the longer they were with Merrill the more he was certain he didn't trust her at all. She made his skin crawl; she was too quiet and spent too much time staring at Hawke. That was when she wasn't apologizing for the horrendous behavior of the rest of the elves they came across on the way up. When she stepped up to the barrier he felt his muscles pulling tight. He gripped his staff ready to pull it free and use it at a moment's notice. Justice was screaming in his head that they were in danger.

"I can get us through, just a moment." And suddenly the apologetic elf seemed full of confidence making him believe Justice.

He couldn't help himself, he gripped Hawke's upper arm and dragged her back a few steps not wanting her to take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hawke nodded to him, signaling she understood why he moved her and he was glad, he didn't want to try to explain it. Before she had even come to a standstill his eyes snapped back to Merrill as the feel of summoning magic danced along his skin.

His gut clenched again and he felt anger, his and Justice's, flare bright within him. "That was a summoning. That takes blood magic, are you crazy?" He spat at her, working hard to hold himself in check even as he swung his staff free.

"Yes, but the spirit helped us." She looked surprised at his outburst.

He was about to ask her how she could be so blind, so stupid, but Hawke beat him to the punch.

"Sure, demons are very helpful…right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster." Her tone was only half joking and the rigid posture of her body made her feelings on the matter clear.

He had taken a half step forward, not sure of what he was going to do other than get rid of Merrill. Hawke moved in front of him, clearly blocking his path. So instead he just clenched his jaw when the elf spouted more empty assurances. They always did, blood mages always thought they were going to be different from everyone else. That even when the most powerful and diligent of mages fell victim to a demon's pull, they would somehow beat them.

He had no desire to argue with the elf, Maker knew they never listened anyway. What he wanted was to get this stupid rite over with, get off this Maker forsaken mountain and away from the crazy blood mage. None of them needed a blood mage in their life, no matter how innocent she appeared.

"Enough Merrill, we're here for a reason. Let's finish this already." Hawke's posture looked relaxed but he saw how she was gripping her daggers, she was angry.

Silently, and still seething, he and the others followed Merrill to the altar; it only took a few moments for her to perform the rite. There was a brilliant flash of yellow light and Anders cringed, he had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut, now what had they unleashed and why did that light seem familiar somehow.

He was surprised, and not pleasantly so, to see Flemeth. He should have remembered that one of her many names was Asha'bellanar. The witch didn't seem to share his surprise however, she just gave him a small smile before turning her whole attention to Hawke. "So refreshing to see someone keep their end of a bargain."

Merrill appeared to be absolutely terrified of Flemeth, bowing low enough he thought her nose might actually touch the ground. Granted she was probably right to be afraid, he knew that well enough, but she could have at least pretended to have some courage. As far as Hawke, the woman didn't seem to know the meaning of fear. And as he saw Flemeth looking at Hawke fondly he couldn't decide himself whether to be worried or relieved.

Hawke scowled at Flemeth, "We had a deal and I honor my word."

"A rare trait these days," Flemeth responded.

"Although, you said I was carrying an amulet, not smuggling you." How could she be amused? Didn't she know how dangerous Flemeth was?

A ghost of a smile touched Flemeth's lips, "Just a piece of me. A bit of security should the inevitable occur." At this she flicked her gaze to him again and he tried his best not to react to her.

Hawke seemed to catch the glance and turned to him as well, "You know her?"

He didn't get a chance to respond. "We've never specifically met but I know of him."

He watched Hawke shift her weight to the other foot, her voice no longer amused. "And what do you know of him?"

If he didn't know better he would say she sounded jealous. Of Flemeth, that was absurd. Flemeth's gaze found him again, amusement clear on her face. She opened her mouth and was speaking but he heard something completely different from what she was saying out loud.

"_She's beautiful is she not my mageling prince? And see how she already adores you. Don't fret so over me, trust me you'll have your hands full with her. And for now I'm willing to forget that you're one of the few creatures that are actually a threat to me. Especially, now that you have a burning desire for…Justice."_

He tried to ignore her and when he couldn't shut out her voice he pictured Morrigan lying still as death in that small room at the back of Eveleen's house. It brought a surge of anger with it and set Justice snarling at the witch. She laughed but her voice receded, it was the first time in months he had been glad for Justice.

He had no idea how she had known about him and Justice. When last he had seen her, he had been himself, his old self. And Hawke had said she had been carrying that amulet around for over a year, long before he had ever met Flemeth. He wouldn't make himself crazy trying to figure it out, Flemeth was a mystery, one that would probably never be solved.

Flemeth turned back to Hawke her smile faded and she began speaking cryptically as she was wont to do. Something about the way she stared at Hawke was extremely unsettling. Maybe he was just thinking about the last time he had seen Flemeth when she had first mentioned a woman for him, a woman and an important destiny.

He realized then that he wouldn't be able to get her out of his life completely. As long as Flemeth was free he would worry about Hawke, about what the witch had planned for her. His life was already a mess, there wasn't enough left of it for Flemeth to make a mess of.

Hawke continued to peer at Flemeth curiously. "Are you some sort of vision?" She asked when there was a brief lull in Flemeth's speech.

Flemeth laughed, a rich sound all the way from her toes. "Must I be in only one place? Bodies are such limiting things." She seemed to look through Hawke as she continued, her voice taking on a nearly hypnotic cadence. "I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole. A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm."

"A fragment?" Hawke arched a brow.

Flemeth walked up to her, and Anders took a few steps closer. Flemeth ignored him keeping her focus on Hawke. "You don't need to understand child. Know only that you may have saved my life just as I once saved yours. An even trade, I think."

Hawke sighed, clearly giving up on trying to make sense of Flemeth's rambling, he could appreciate that feeling. "You have plans I take it?"

"Destiny awaits us both dear girl. We have much to do." She looked Hawke over again and canted her head to the side, her sharp eyes likely taking in every detail of Hawke. "But before I go, a word of advice." She turned from them looking out over the valley below them, her voice taking on the slightest tone of urgency that made his skin crawl. "We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment…and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap." She turned back to them, eyes fixed suddenly on both him and Hawke. Her eyes seemed to almost glow for a moment when she spoke again. "It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly." As she spoke he heard the words echoed in his head, apparently she wanted to make sure he heard them.

Bethany's quiet words echoed his own feelings. "We're going to regret bringing her here."

Flemeth's eyes slowly dragged away from him and Hawke to settle for the first time on Bethany and he watched as a subtle sadness settled over the witch. "Regret is something I know well." Her voice had suddenly become very quiet, what sounded like real sadness threaded through it, "Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poison's your soul." Her voice became little more than a rough whisper. "When it comes time for your regrets, remember me." A pause while she held Bethany's gaze for a moment. Bethany wasn't able to hold it and glanced down breaking the contact.

Flemeth seemed to suddenly notice Merrill "As for you child," her voice once again more strident, though not quite in admonishment, "step carefully, no path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

Merrill gave the witch a queer look before bowing yet again. "Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar."

He almost shook his head; she feared Flemeth but wouldn't listen to even her. A demon apparently already had its claws embedded deep in her psyche. She thought she knew better than everyone else, most likely a pride demon then.

Suddenly, the witch seemed eager to leave. Striding back to Hawke, Flemeth's voice returned to normal, "You have my thanks," She looked Hawke over carefully again before continuing, her eyes glowing briefly for a second. "And my sympathy."

Then her gaze moved to settle on him for a moment and that ghost of a smile touched her lips again, _"We still dream of you."_ A sensual laugh echoed through his head on the heels of her words. _"Each time you doubt her you will both suffer for it."_ She turned away from them, a shower of yellow light shifting into a dragon before she leapt flying off into the clouds and out of their sight.

They all stood there in shocked silence for several minutes before Hawke turned away from the altar, "Let's get out of here, shall we?" He couldn't agree more.

* * *

On the two day trip back down the mountain his mind was kept busy flowing back and forth between problems. Flemeth's words were making it difficult not to think of Hawke, having all but said he was destined to be with her. When he was able to stop thinking about it he instead worried about her parting comments, by 'her' had she meant Hawke as well? And what was she talking about an abyss?

As if Flemeth wasn't enough to occupy his mind Merrill had been sent back to Kirkwall with them. He would need to speak to Hawke about it, as soon as they reached the city they all needed to get away from the elf and stay away from her. She wanted to be in Kirkwall she would have to make it on her own. Their lives were already difficult enough.

Occasionally he was distracted by Hawke's flirting and Bethany's blushes. He wasn't sure whether to welcome them because they distracted him or fear them. He was starting to suspect Bethany, unlike her sister, was actually interested in him. Her blushes when she spoke to him or caught her staring at him certainly made it seem that way. Hawke kept up her incessant flirting and he was losing the battle of ignoring her. The trip back seemed very long.

Hawke stopped abruptly to adjust the buckle on one of her boots. When she stood up, she spun around quickly and grinned at him. "Enjoying the view?"

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning and raised his eyebrow in feigned innocence, considering that had been exactly what he had been doing. The leather of her armor cupped her ass beautifully. Varric and Merrill were both amused, while Bethany seemed terribly embarrassed, which only seemed to spur Hawke on more, poor girl.

"Maybe you should be walking in front. And…it's awfully hot today, why don't you take off that coat?" She teased him gently, and he let himself enjoy the small bit of flattery.

"Sekhmet," Bethany hissed, shooting him an apologetic look.

Merrill giggled and Hawke turned to look at her, "I think Merrill agrees with me." And just like that his amusement was gone, evaporated on the blood mage's laughter.

He rolled his eyes and did take the lead, but left his, thankfully, long coat firmly in place.

"Pah, you're no fun Anders."

He could almost see her mock pout, but just shrugged and kept walking. He wondered briefly to himself, not for the first time, if her flirting was just to amuse herself or if she was genuinely attracted to him. It was likely she was just amusing herself at his expense.

Though, she was relentless enough; every time he turned around she was flirting with him or touching him in some small way, making his heart race at each contact. And there was a wildness to her that drew him to her against his better judgment. He always liked passionate women, though none he had known came near to Hawke. There were no half measures with the woman.

As for the flirting, not even the women in the Circle, or the men for that matter, were as brazen as she was and he had to admit, part of him liked the attention. The other part of him realized what he looked like now and kept him grounded, at least partially, in reality. Spending a few days in his clinic without following Hawke around for a few days would be good for him. All he had to do was get back there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Heart Sick**

Sekhmet watched the young man angrily tack a notice to the Chanter's Board while arguing with the Grand Cleric. Not sure whether to be amused or horrified she kept watching. When he turned to walk away he had the most startling teal colored eyes, made all the more vivid by his tanned skin. That boy could definitely break some hearts with that accent and those pretty eyes.

His walk spoke of a man born to power, back straight shoulders back, eyes forward. How long did nobility practice each day to learn that haughty gait? It seemed they all had it. Yet, here was the Grand Cleric pulling the notice off the board and scolding the young man as one would a boy.

The Grand Cleric addressed him familiarly instead of with a proper title, perhaps he had lost his recently? Whatever the case he still acted like a noble, a spoiled one at that. She couldn't believe it when he shot the notice out of the Grand Cleric's hands, pinning it back to the board with an arrow. What kind of man knowingly shot at the Grand Cleric in broad day light? She was so surprised she barely heard what he was saying, just continued to watch him as he stomped away angrily.

"Close your mouth Hawke, you're attracting flies." His voice was mostly teasing but she was surprised to hear the underlying annoyance in Anders' voice.

What was his problem? He could barely tolerate her most days. "Oh come on Anders, are you telling me you didn't hear that accent, didn't see those eyes?"

"Is there a man in Kirkwall that you're not attracted too?" He asked, a bit more snappishly.

Right, there was more than a little alpha male left inside Anders; she forgot that all too often. No matter she could have a little fun. She smirked at him; it was so easy to wind him up sometimes. "I'm sure there's at least one or two."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Sweet Anders still had no idea that he really was the only man she had designs on. She liked to flirt and could appreciate a good looking man without necessarily being attracted to him. But Anders had his hooks in her, she found herself completely in his thrall no matter how much she liked to play the vixen. It was safer that way.

She gripped the loose end of his belt and tugged him a little closer to her. Batting her eyelashes in an overly exaggerated manner she spoke in a low, husky purr. "I'm still holding out for a tall, blonde apostate with a killer smile."

It wasn't a full blown smile, just a small curling of his lips and a look of satisfaction on his face, but it was nice. He might not actually be attracted to her, but he was still a man and therefore still had an ego. And she wasn't above appealing to it.

Bethany huffed behind them, "You do realize she's playing with you right? Winding you up so she can make you smile when she flirts with you again." She should probably feel bad that Bethany kept getting caught in the middle of her playing with Anders, but honestly she thought Anders was way out of Bethany's league, her own too.

Whatever he was now, the man had a history and she just knew it was filled with fire. He was like banked coals waiting to be stirred back to life. She was determined to be the one to bring that fire back to life even if she got burned in the process. Bethany would want to control him and his fire. She just wanted to see the blaze, to feel its warmth.

She felt his gaze as he studied her and waited for him to scold her or make accusations instead he just shrugged. "I'm not worried about a little teasing between friends."

Surprised, she smiled and it was smug. She was being so childish but everytime Anders sided with her over Bethany it felt like a small victory. If Anders ever gave up his little 'I'll hurt you' rant and decided to choose one of the Hawke sisters she wasn't sure she would be able to step aside gracefully if he chose Beth. She wasn't getting any younger; most women her age were already married with children. Bethany was young and had plenty of time to find another suitor.

She frowned, since when was she worried about marriage and getting old? She was young and vibrant. She had no need for a man in her life, never had before. And she would give Beth anything, anything at all to make sure she was happy. If her sister needed Anders she would have to try to find a way to be happy for them.

Anders interrupted her thoughts. "Hawke?"

She shook her head, "Sorry, my mind was wandering." She flashed him another smile, "Now let's check out the board and see if there's any money to be made."

* * *

Sekhmet cursed the rain, not a drop for months, but as soon as she had dragged everyone out of Kirkwall the skies had opened up and a heavy rain had begun to fall. The air was thick; humid, it felt cold and clammy against her already chilled skin. Today her body was tired and achy. Sleeping in the rain, only her tent for protection, the damp seeped into her bones. Even the bright Kirkwall sun, which had finally peeked out from the clouds, wasn't able to warm her though it seemed to brand itself painfully in her eyes.

It should be warm, in fact she was sweating rivers, but she felt as if Anders had hit her with Winter's grasp. Not wanting the others to see something was wrong she struggled not to let her teeth chatter but suspected it wouldn't matter. Anders, Varric and even her sister kept giving her concerned looks confirming her suspicion that she looked as terrible as she felt. Normally, she would be furious that people saw her like this, disheveled and not completely in control. She 'handled' things; it was her job and a huge chunk of how she defined herself.

Anders was practically hovering over her and she couldn't even drum up the energy to tease him. It was oddly comforting having someone watching over her for a change. If the man wasn't careful he'd end up not just with a teasing friend, but with a woman who was truly smitten.

Her thoughts seized like a rusted wheel. Wait, what? Smitten? Her? No, she wasn't the type to go all doe eyed over men. She had to clear her head; her fatigued heavy lids slid closed when she gave it a little shake, it felt like it was full of wool.

Thoughts were slow and tangled as she looked up at Anders again. Had he moved even closer to her? His brow furrowed as he looked down at her, ready to chastise her at any moment. It wouldn't be the first time, seemed to be everyone's favorite past time. _"Yes, 'Sekhmet the Screw Up' that's me, at your service."_ She almost did a little bow as she giggled at the thought.

Or maybe, 'Sekhmet the Disappointment' would be more appropriate. Heaviness sank into her and she quickly looked away from him, eyes fixed on the ground as she trudged forward. That thought had certainly sucked the wind right out of her sails. Her thoughts flitted to Carver and she sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. That day played over and over again in her mind, she should have moved, should have shoved him out of the way.

And that one thought niggled in the back of her mind, peeking in when she least expected it. Had she let him die? It wasn't that she didn't love him. She did, had spent time beyond counting trying to make him proud of her, trying to find forgiveness for what she had done. Always there was that bitterness and disappointment in his eyes, even betrayal. It had hurt, had burned inside her for two years before she hadn't been able to take it anymore and had slipped away during the night. But she had loved him deeply; she couldn't have let him die, could she?

The pain and doubt opened a chasm inside of her, yawning wide and sucking in all the light and joy she knew. Why hadn't she saved him? Why hadn't she saved papa? Her throat was tightening with emotion and her chest felt like a sucking wound. She wanted to howl out her pain and her grief but with her throat constricted all that came out was quiet squeak. Her voice as useless and ineffectual as her weapons and fighting in the face of saving those she loved.

Anders touched her shoulder gently; she had stopped moving during her spate of self doubt. Her cheeks suffused with heat and she turned her face away. She fought the urge to look at Bethany and Varric, to determine how much of her lapse they had seen, but Anders' eyes were still on her. She would not let them see how lost she felt. Instead, she focused on the ground in front of her feet moving quickly one in front of the other as she listened for danger. They had only moved a few steps before she had to stop again. Taking a breath she looked up at Anders who was standing a bit closer to her yet again. The man was going to think she was crazy, and maybe she was because she had no idea why they were out here.

Her skin prickled as the sounds from a battle reached her ears saving her from making the embarrassing admission. Picking up to a run, her legs feeling like lead, they found a group of men, one of which was a dwarf, being attacked by large spiders. Tyr ran ahead and tackled one, jaws snapping and snarling.

A happy smile graced her lips, she loved that dog, he never asked for anything more than love. And he gave her unconditional love in return. His eyes never showed the disappointment she saw in so many others, never accusatory and never angry. No, Tyr was the perfect man, he even let her snuggle him whenever she wanted.

Lost in thought, her limbs moving as if through deep water, she didn't see the spider leaping at her from the left. Thankfully, Anders was still looking out for her and froze it solid. Its heavy form hit the ground and shattered before it reached her. With another flush of embarrassment, she gave him a quick nod of gratitude and tried to turn her mind to the matter at hand. While it was a struggle to keep her concentration she was able to lend a hand and help end the skirmish quickly.

The dwarf strolled over to them, deciding that Sekhmet was the one to talk to he opened his mouth to speak. "Now you're what a man needs." His gaze travelled over her and then Bethany. It made her skin crawl. He was oily, sleazy and she didn't like him.

"Varric?" She gestured vaguely at the dwarf. Flashing her a look that said 'gee, thanks' he went to speak with the man.

It was just as well because as soon as she stepped away from the conversation Anders was on her heels. "What's wrong with you and don't tell me you're fine."

She managed a smirk, "Alright, I'm amazing?"

This earned a scowl from Anders but a round of giggles from Bethany.

"And what would have happened if I wasn't paying attention to you?" His voice was low, but the irritation carried clearly.

"I would be very sad if you didn't think I was worth paying attention to." Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. That earned her a glare from Anders and another fit of giggles from Bethany.

"You think this is funny? You could have been hurt." The raw anger she heard gave her pause for a moment.

Before he could sense her weakness she shrugged nonchalantly. "Isn't that what I pay you for?"

He ground his teeth once before he huffed angrily and became sullen. Although he kept hovering over her she thought he was kind of cute when he pouted. Her sister wasn't helping matters teasing him about how worried he was over nothing.

"Knowing her she probably got distracted looking at someone's weapons. She's like that, don't worry so much." She reached out to touch his back soothingly but he turned and hissed at her.

"There's something wrong with her, Bethany. Do you want something to happen to her?"

Beth looked hurt for a moment but just sighed heavily and turned away waiting for Varric to finish whatever business the dwarf was trying to engage them in. The dwarf, Varric called him Javaris, and his remaining men left. The two dwarves had made a deal. She tried to listen to everything Varric was telling her but she couldn't make herself pay attention. She badly needed sleep. The gist of it was simple enough though: go to the Wounded Coast, where they were already headed and kill some troublemakers, which they were also already planning on. At least now she knew why they were outside of Kirkwall and wouldn't have to ask.

* * *

The last of the Flint Company Mercenaries on the Wounded Coast managed to catch her right arm, slicing her open from shoulder to elbow. Pivoting, while yanking the blade in her left hand free so she could kill the bastard, she was surprised by a furious yell from behind her. There was a flash of pale blue light and the mercenary simply exploded.

As she stared dumbfounded she heard Anders running towards her, his long legs carrying him across the space almost before she realized it was him. His teeth were clenched as he let loose a sapphire ribbon of magic to re-knit the flayed flesh of her right arm. She knew she was staring at him but couldn't help herself. Had that outburst come from Anders? Yeah, he had a big mouth on the battle field but he never lost his calm.

"Anders?" She asked hesitantly as he worked on her arm.

"What?" he grated.

"Was that you?" What was wrong with her that she was so pleased by his violent reaction to her injury?

"Was what me?" He knew, it was in his voice, it had been him. But would he admit it?

"The man who cut me, did you kill him?" Her eyes were fixed on him while she waited to see if he would answer.

Her arm healed, he stepped away from her. "That's the fifth time in two days you've taken a serious injury. We've taken care of the Flint Company on Sundermount and here. We need to head back to the city."

Deflecting? All well, it had been a pleasant thought while it lasted. "We're already on the Wounded Coast we might as well take care of the Tal Vashoth."

He held her eyes. "Then at least let me take care of you."

She shook her head; they had been going over and over this for the last two days. "I'm not sick and we don't have time to play Doctor."

His eyes blazed at that and his lips pressed into a thin line. He resented it when she insinuated that his motives for healing her were less than pure. She still wasn't sure if it was because he took it as an affront to his healing, or if his motives really were less than pure. As an optimist she liked to think it was the latter.

"Fine," he growled, "then let's get moving."

* * *

Anders reached out and grabbed Hawke's arm when she stumbled again. He could smell the illness on her, was surprised that no one else seemed to. They didn't even comment as her body's obvious fatigue slowed them more and more. In the last two hours alone she had become increasingly unsteady on her feet, forcing Anders to walk beside her to keep her from face planting into the sand.

When she turned to smile at him he tried not to recoil, her breath smelled of ammonia, her skin was covered in sweat and somehow even more pale than usual. There were high spots of color on each of her cheeks. Enough was enough; he wasn't going to let her kill herself for the sake of expediency. He turned to Varric and Bethany, "We're stopping."

Hawke scowled at him, "Why are we stopping?"

"Because you're obviously ill." He braced himself, she was going to fight him, she always fought him.

"I'm fine." She snapped.

"Yeah?" He released her arm and used his heel to drag a line in the dirt, "Walk this from end to end without stumbling and we'll keep going."

She glared at him. "This is absurd, Anders."

Without a word he peeled her hood back from her head revealing her hair which was plastered to her head and hanging in limp, wet strands. She had been sweating profusely for hours but over the last hour he noticed she was sweating less and less. Maybe if he shocked Bethany and Varric enough they would help him convince her to take a break.

Thankfully, it had the desired effect. Bethany gasped and reached out to touch Sekhmet's skin. "You're burning up."

"Of course I am, it's the middle of the afternoon." Hawke blasted her sister with her ire.

"It's not that hot, sis. Please, let's just stop." Worry creased her brow and seemed to give Hawke pause.

There was an advantage to knowing Hawke's weak spot. She sighed heavily before turning back to him. "Fine, just fix it so we can get going." Her tone was agitated as if it was his fault she was ill.

Relieved that she wasn't going to just march herself into a grave he contented himself with the small victory, already planning his next move. A flicker of amusement tickled at him for a moment. Dealing with Hawke on any day was not unlike sparring or maybe a game like wicked grace or chess. She was…something.

Setting his pack down he lightly took her arm again, when she didn't protest he steered her over to a tree and had her sit, resting against it. "It's not that simple. I can get rid of whatever has made you ill but it will take your body a little time to get back to normal." Planting seeds.

"What's wrong with my body now?" Her voice was quiet and a little hurt, the question obviously just for him.

Nothing, he wanted to tell her, desperately wanted to tell her. Since the incident on Sundermount where he had dropped her foot like it was on fire she had been sensitive around him. Hyperaware of every touch and always wary as if she expected him to tell her she was hideous or some other ridiculous thing. Each time, like now he had the urge to soothe her. Instead, he focused on the real issue at hand. "The two biggest concerns are your fever and the fact that you're becoming dehydrated." He wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and licked his thumb ignoring everyone's strange looks. No salty taste, that wasn't good.

"Make a fire, start some stew she needs to eat something. And set up the tents, we're not going anywhere today." He issued orders over his shoulder, not bothering to check if they were doing as he asked. He had a patient to take care of, a surly one.

Her argument didn't come, though she glared at him as if willing him to self immolate. Ignoring her death stare, a quick tug untied her waterskin from her hip. He pulled the cork free pushing the skin into her shaky hands before he checked her body over to see how sick she really was. His magic had barely touched her before he had to pull the waterskin away.

"Don't down it like that, you'll make yourself sick." She was being deliberately difficult just to spite him, like a petulant child.

"I'm already sick according to you." She mumbled, still glaring.

"Let's not add vomiting to the mix, alright? Just a bit slower." He reached up to pull a piece of sweat matted hair from her forehead, but pulled back. Must not touch her, he was getting too entangled today already.

She noticed him drawing back and smirked, "Only if you ask nice."

With a heavy sigh of his own he gave her what she wanted. He could give her this small victory. "Please."

Flashing him a triumphant smile she took the skin back from him, drinking much more slowly this time. He finished checking her over, no organs damaged by disease or anything else too dire. Just her body struggling to fight off whatever illness she had managed to catch. Had she been at the Rose? His heart was jack hammering in his chest. The idea had his gut churning and his skin crawling.

A few deep breaths calmed him enough that he could get back to the task at hand, healing his sick patient. Once he had rid her body of all traces of the illness he could find he stood and dusted himself off. Her grip on his pant leg prevented him from moving away. "Hawke?"

"Could you set up my bedroll? I'm suddenly very tired." Her lids fluttered like she was struggling to keep them open.

He nodded and turned away, she was so much like a child sometimes, and like an old war vet at others. She could face the nastiest thugs and barely bat an eye, yet here she was mumbling and sleepy over an illness. And he, Maker forgive him, found all of it endearing. He laid out her bedroll close enough to the fire that Varric was building that he would be able to keep an eye on her.

Returning to her, she held out her hand to him like a child. Not thinking about it too much he helped her to her feet. She didn't release him so he helped her to her bedroll and lowered her carefully to it. Immediately, she curled on her side, eyes slipping closed as she murmured, "Thank you."

He'd have to remember that, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be hearing that phrase from her again anytime soon.

Bethany motioned for him to come over to her once Hawke was settled. "Is she alright?"

He wanted to stay with Hawke, but there was no reason to at this point so he crossed to her and nodded, "Does she get sick a lot?" He was curious about her stubborn behavior, was she not used to being ill, or was she ill so often that she needed to work through it to have a semblance of a life. He had never detected a serious problem with her health, but he hadn't really been looking for one either.

A flash of guilt swept over Bethany's face. "Not until we came here. She pushes herself too hard, doesn't eat enough, and doesn't sleep enough. She tries to work through it when she gets ill. My healing ability leaves a lot to be desired so I can't do a whole lot for her when she gets sick."

Unease ate at him; it seemed odd to think of her as frail in anyway, even given her small stature. "Has she ever been sick like this before?"

Beth's face became impassive, seemed she learned a few tricks from her older sister, or was trying. She had been getting better at hiding her emotions over the weeks since he had known the sisters. "One other time, we'd been in Kirkwall for about eight months and Athenril was running us ragged. I didn't even know she was sick until she literally collapsed. Two of Athenril's men had to carry her and her gear to Gamlen's and put her in bed. It took her weeks to recover completely, even with me helping her as much as I could. It's odd, she was almost never sick in Ferelden." She looked over at her sister's sleeping form, worry lines etching her face, breaking the illusion of calm she had been trying to cultivate. "She'll be okay though, right?"

"Yes, she should be up and around tomorrow afternoon." At least he hoped so, he didn't recognize the illness, but it hadn't seemed too different from other illnesses he had treated in the past. Maybe it was something unique to the Free Marches.

Bethany looked at him then to Hawke a small sigh escaped her before she went back to the fire with the pot hanging over it. His thoughts were already back with Hawke. He moved closer to her sleeping form, laying out his own bedroll and sitting on it. He wanted to be close to her, he needed to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't unexpectedly relapse.

* * *

Anders gripped Hawke's shoulder lightly to shake her awake. The food was done and she needed to eat so her body could heal properly. She screeched and swung out at him lighting quick. He ended up sprawled on his back with Hawke astride him, her dagger at his throat and his ears ringing. His voice seemed stuck in his throat he was so surprised by her quick movement and ear splitting shriek. Her eyes were glazed as she looked down at him and he worried she wasn't seeing him. A little blossom of fear flickered to life inside of him and he started pulling on his magic to defend himself.

What was she seeing with those glassy, heavy lidded eyes? Some enemy? The deadly sharp edge of her dagger split his skin, a trickle of blood, warm and wet snaked down his throat as she pressed the dagger a little harder. "Hawke?" He kept his voice calm and quiet not to panic her.

"Sekhmet! Get off the poor man." Bethany shouted as she came rushing towards them, force magic already rising from her fingers like wavy lines off the sun baked sand.

Hawke jerked her head up, looking at her sister, eyes blinking rapidly before turning back to him. He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes followed quickly by horror. "Oh gods Anders, I'm sorry." She sheathed her dagger then gingerly touched his neck. "I could have…have…" She blushed and quickly jerked off of him skittering away towards the fire. She curled up, legs tucked against her chest, hugging them with her arms and rocked a little.

Anders stood slowly and brushed himself off, a trace of magic healing the shallow slice on his neck. He wouldn't have even bothered, but he thought the sight of it might upset Hawke further. The sight of her odd, quick, jerky movements had rattled him a little. She was obviously extremely upset. He watched her rocking herself for a moment, wondering what was going on in her head.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bethany standing a few feet away from him, her eyes wary, her magic slowly dissipating. She took a small step towards him then stopped. "Are you alright? She didn't mean it Anders; I should have warned you about waking her up. I'm so sorry." She looked down at her feet.

Turning a little to see her, but keeping Hawke in his sight he spoke to Bethany. "It's alright, no harm done."

Beth's expression turned hopeful. What a strange and fascinating pair the Hawke sisters were. Fiercely protective of each other, each absolutely convinced the other needed it. Funny thing was, once one of them made up their mind nothing, not man, nor beast, nor magic could stop them. Save perhaps the other sister. He, for one, would not be underestimating them. "Really Beth, I'm fine."

The girl colored and flashed him a huge smile. He mentally went over the conversation in his head trying to figure out what he might have said to illicit that response but lost interest quickly, wanting to talk to Hawke. After a moment she headed back to where she had been playing cards with Varric tossing glances over her shoulder at both Anders and Hawke.

Anders walked over to where Hawke sat scrunched up in front of the fire and sat down next to her. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded but didn't look at him. He could see her eyes were blank again staring into the fire, had her fever not broke? Was she getting worse? "How do you feel Hawke?"

She gave a half hearted chuckle, "Like a fool."

He caught himself raising his hand to touch her arm reassuringly and set it on the ground between them instead. Had he thought he had become accustomed to Justice not wanting him to touch anyone? Everytime he saw her he had an urge to touch her, in at least a small way. "I'd say this makes us even, wouldn't you?" He kept his tone light, hoping for a little laugh.

Instead, she turned to look at him incredulously, "Are you for real?" At least she was making eye contact with him now.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Had she forgotten already?

"I could have killed you, Anders. Do you understand that?" Her eyes lowered again, looking at the ground as if she was ashamed of herself.

"And I could have killed you with the lightning. I don't see the difference." This time he couldn't stop himself from touching her hand lightly, but he didn't let it linger.

"The difference is that I didn't know who you were. Even looking at you it didn't really register, there was a flicker of something familiar about you but that was it." She sounded angry, bitter.

Should he be hurt that she didn't recognize him, or should he be flattered that even in that state, confused by sleep and illness some part of her had recognized him. This wasn't about him, this was about her. So he tried to lighten his tone. "Well, I suppose I am rather forgettable."

"I wish." She muttered.

He had heard her, but was still surprised. "What?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry Anders. I wish there was something more I could do than just say the words but I wouldn't know where to begin. Just, try not to touch me when you wake me up. I don't respond well." She gave him a half hearted smile. "And if you catch me in the right dream you might end up with me pinning you down for another reason completely."

He smiled at the image, he liked it, liked it a lot.

Her eyes went wide and she gasped, "Killer smile, check." She said quietly, almost to herself. "Do you have any idea how beautiful, how heart-stoppingly gorgeous your smile is?"

As a matter of fact he did, or rather he used to. Now, it seemed like a memory from a long time ago. Her fingers grazed his lips as the smile melted away.

"No, I'm sorry don't stop. It just surprised me." She took her fingers away. "Would you smile again if I promised not to hit on you again?"

Was she nuts? That was the whole reason he had smiled in the first place. Just the memory of how her fingers felt on his lips almost had him smiling again, but he had other things to consider. She was ill, Justice could hurt her, maybe even kill her if he ever acted on any of his impulses. The weight of his possession dragged him down eclipsing the light he had briefly glimpsed.

"Let's get something to eat so you can rest." He started to stand.

"I'd raze the Gallows to the ground and slaughter every last Templar just to see that smile again." Her eyes were over bright and there wasn't even a hint of a smile on her face.

He closed his eyes, pain ripping at him. A hole torn in his heart. He could have loved her, of that he had no doubt. Had his heart still been his to give he would have handed it over to her with any smile she wanted to see. He pictured stroking her cheek and dropping a soft kiss there. He wanted to scream at Justice, at fate, at whatever gods might exist. Why would they send her now?

He steeled himself and opened his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hole up in the back of his clinic for a few days licking his wounds. "I'd settle for you returning to the city tomorrow and resting properly for a few days before going after the Tal Vashoth. The Qunari are formidable enemies."

She stood beside him. "I will, even though I can tell from your face that I won't get another smile from you."

"If I had one to give you, I would." He was just grateful she would head back and wouldn't fight him again.

Her eyes bore into him before she let out a soft sigh. "Yes, I think you would."


	6. Chapter 6

**Collecting Crazy-What a Lickable Elf**

As the elf walked down the steps all lean lines, lithe limbs and a shock of pure white hair Sekhmet tried not to stare, he was an artist's dream. His fine bone structure kind of reminded her of a porcelain doll she had seen in a shop in Denerim once. The elf glared at the slaver, his green eyes filled with pure hate. "Your men are dead and your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."

Her jaw almost hit the ground and her knees felt weak for a brief moment. There was no way an elf should ever have a voice that deep, and it was beautiful, like everything about him, almost painfully beautiful. The large sword strapped to his back was something she would have seen Carver carry and looked odd on the pretty elf.

He looked like someone had gone through a lot of trouble to emphasize and enhance his natural beauty. The white colored tattoos that twined around his tanned skin seemed to contour along every muscle, accentuating them where ever his skin was bared. Whoever had done that to him, tattooed him like that, was a mad genius.

The tattoos she had been admiring started to light up, the air crackling with charged energy that felt a bit like magic and a bit like the air before a storm. Anders' hand wrapped almost possessively around her upper arm as he dragged her back a few steps to stand beside him. His own magic was simmering under the surface tickling her skin.

"What is that?" She asked him quietly.

"I don't know, but it's strong." Anders had barely finished his sentence when the elf struck like a snake.

Her eyes went wide as the blue glow engulfed his arm, making him seem almost translucent. His hand darted forward, entering the man's chest without a sound. The elf's voice boomed out while he still had the slaver in his grasp. "I am not a slave." Disbelief and agony flashed over the slaver's face before he slid to the ground like he had just slipped off the elf's still glowing hand. There was no discernible wound but even from where she stood she could see the slaver was dead.

The glowing of his tattoos faded as he turned to Sekhmet and met her eyes. His voice was quiet and controlled when he spoke again, almost cultured. "I apologize."

From rage and hate to calm appraisal in seconds, and people thought she had mood swings. He began walking around Sekhmet in a wide arc; she realized he was taking in her companions, sizing them up as he spoke. "You are not hurt? I did not know they would send so many."

"Not hurt. Confused? Curious? Yes, but not hurt." The whole job had been hinky from the start. The terrified dwarf asking them to retrieve stolen lyrium in the middle of the night from smugglers in the Alienage. Why would they be hiding amongst the city elves? They would stand out there and the elves weren't likely to provide lyrium thieves with any assistance. But she had needed the money so they had gone and found the house easily.

Then the chest inside that should have held the lyrium was empty. She had swallowed down her irritation and resolved to just tell Anso and see if she could get at least some pay for her time and effort. But as they left the house they were accosted by a large number of thugs who wore Tevinter style armor and spoke with Tevinter accents.

She had no idea what they would be doing in Kirkwall, the city was still struggling to recover from the influx of refugees it had taken on. But she could guess now that they were after the elf with the glowing tattoos, apparently a very valuable runaway slave. And she had been set up as a decoy, a dummy, and she felt every inch the fool.

Stopping again in front of her he eyed Anders who subtly pushed her back a small step essentially putting himself between her and the elf though he was not in front of her. She wasn't sure if Anders was being possessive or overprotective either way it seemed to irritate the elf who glared at him for another moment before turning his attention to her.

She let Anders play whatever little game he was playing without complaint. They knew nothing about the elf besides the fact that he was deadly. A united front for now would be safer, although she heard Varric whisper to Bethany behind her.

"I think Blondie has a death wish."

"I suppose an explanation is in order. I am Fenris." He took a small step forward and she felt Anders' magic humming more powerfully under his skin but he didn't stop Fenris from reaching out his hand. She shook it calmly but quickly not wanting to provoke anyone, at least until she knew exactly what was going on.

Fenris didn't seem to notice the tension, or maybe he was ignoring it. Either way he continued. "Those men, all of them, were sent for me, to bring me back to Tevinter."

"Because you're a slave?" Her tone was light, conversational.

"Yes, I am…was a slave and escaped. There were too many for me to face directly, I needed a diversion." His voice became quieter and his gaze more intent as if he were studying her reaction closely.

"Why not just ask for help?" She was more irritated by the lies than anything else.

"Not many would openly assist an escaped slave. I thought it best to be cautious." His voice still seemed odd coming from him, he was a contradiction, a beautiful elf carrying an enormous sword with a deep rich voice, cultured almost arrogant speech yet he fidgeted back and forth from one foot to the other as if nervous.

"I suppose I can understand that. You must be pretty valuable; I can't imagine sending all those men from Tevinter to catch you was cheap." In fact, it would have cost a fortune.

He stilled, his back turning rigid, "Yes, I am valuable to him."

She ignored his tension; did he honestly think she was going to turn him over now after she had been attacked by the slavers? "Is it because of your tattoos? That is what they are, right?"

He nodded, "In a manner of speaking. They are made from lyrium."

Well that explained why she had felt magic when his tattoos lit up. But how did they work exactly? All well, it didn't really matter, the job was apparently done. "So, are we done here?"

He seemed to relax a bit before turning from her and rifling through the dead slaver's pockets. "Not exactly, I believe my master is here in the city and could use your help in facing him. I am tired of running."

"Kill more slavers? Why the Void not, we don't have anything better to do." She smiled brightly; she liked the idea of killing slavers almost as she liked killing Templars.

"Speak for yourself." Anders muttered, his magic finally receding.

She ignored him; something made her think Anders wouldn't let her go unless he went too. She gestured around at her companions. "This is Anders, Varric and Bethany. So, where are we off too?"

"Thank you, I appreciate your assistance." He held up what looked like a small drawing in front on him, peering at it in the dark. "It looks like we're going to a mansion in Hightown."

She could have guessed that, Hightown was where all the money in Kirkwall could be found. She started following him as he led the way, instead of falling in behind her as he usually did Anders kept pace with her, his usually fluid movements slightly rigid.

"What's wrong?" She whispered, hoping Fenris wouldn't overhear.

"He's dangerous, and he's not telling us everything." He answered with no hesitation.

"How can you possibly know that?" She didn't really doubt him; she had the same suspicions but wondered how Anders knew.

"Let's just say I know a thing or two about danger and lies." He kept his eyes on Fenris' back as he spoke.

Fenris was moving rigidly as well, had he overheard them? "So your former master, are you planning on killing him?"

His words were dripping venom as he spoke, "Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I have lost count." His voice deepened a bit. "And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom."

Anders cringed a little next to Sekhmet, "Ouch."

Fenris never slowed, "So yes, I intend to do more than just talk."

Fenris fell silent and didn't speak again but Sekhmet could practically feel the bitterness rolling off him in waves. She was going to have to be very careful with this one, pretty he may be, but Anders was right, he was dangerous too. It would behoove her not to forget it.

When they finally reached the mansion Fenris paused, moving back and forth from foot to foot again. He looked more than a little cagey and it made her uneasy, the elf _was_ hiding something and whatever it was, it was big.

"Alright then, time to spill Fenris. What has you hesitating, I thought you wanted this bastard dead." Please let it be something small, please.

"He is a magister." Each word was uttered as if it were an expletive.

She shook her head; of course she would get herself mixed up in something like this. As her mother would say, she had a knack for trouble. "So he's one of the most powerful mages in Tevinter? A mage and a politician, in Tevinter, oh that's just wonderful."

Varric snorted, "This is insane Hawke."

Fenris would not be way laid though, "Yes, there he is a mage and a politician. Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

She smirked, "Then I suppose we should go make him sweat."

"Don't we get a say in this?" Varric piped up again.

"No." No use arguing, she had already said they would help and she was going in. "So are you coming or are you worried Bianca's not up to it."

"Shh, she didn't mean it Bianca, she knows you can handle it." He sighed, "Fine Hawke, I'm with you. But if I die I want you to know I'll write awful stories about you."

She chuckled, "Fair enough. Anders? Bethany?"

Bethany shrugged, not looking worried, "I go where you go."

Anders didn't respond just rolled his eyes at her.

She gave him a smile, "Good to know I can always count on you. Now, let's have a little fun."

Fenris scowled a little, clearly not amused. "I do not fear death, that does not mean we should be reckless"

And that was fine by her, she quite rather liked living. Of course as soon as they were five feet inside the mansion, which smelled like death and rot, Fenris started bellowing for Danarius to show himself. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to slap him as they fought their way through demons and shades just to find that the mansion was already abandoned.

As volatile as the man seemed to be she expected him to break out in a fit of anger. Instead, he looked a bit sick and quickly excused himself stating he needed some air. She nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere. There had to be something worthwhile in the mansion, something that would turn a little profit and prevent this escapade from being a total bust.

Bethany tugged on Anders' sleeve, "Come on, we don't want to get in the way when they start committing larceny."

She didn't miss Anders looking her and Varric over before he nodded a little. He didn't look upset or disgusted so perhaps he had just been curious about what they were planning on stealing. She gave him a smile, "Go run along and play with Bethany while daddy and I bring home the bacon."

Varric chuckled, "Maker save me if I end up with you Hawke. I wouldn't survive it."

Anders' look soured, "Just don't grab anything too conspicuous, we still need to get it out of Hightown."

"You're so damn cute when you worry about me." She giggled.

Bethany sighed heavily and left, after a moment Anders followed.

"You know Hawke, one of these days you're going to push that boy too far." He snickered as he picked up a small golden candleholder.

"Worried you'll lose any easy mark?" She laughed.

"Nah, I kinda like him. Try not to scare him off."

"I promise nothing." She didn't want to scare Anders off either but she liked to tease him, she had a feeling he kind of liked it too though he was generally loathe to admit it. She figured if it got to be too much he'd tell her to shut up.

They scoured the place and found a few things that Varric assured her he could get a decent price for. He seemed quite pleased with a couple pieces so hopefully it would be enough to split and still be worthwhile. As she jogged towards the door she heard Varric laughing behind her.

"Better go save him from your sister's clutches."

That gave her pause, was that why she was rushing out? She didn't want Anders left alone with Bethany? Wow, color her jealous. She laughed a little, and why not, jealousy was a ridiculous emotion. Thankfully, she was able to slow her steps so she didn't look like a fool rushing after them. Silly, silly girl.

As she walked through the last door Bethany jerked backwards away from Anders blushing. "We were just talking about magic."

Anders was staring at Bethany with furrowed brows but didn't say anything. She walked as casually as she could across the room to them her mind running wild. Were they just talking? Was it about magic? Was it something else and that was why Anders looked confused?

His gaze turned to her and she gave him a smile that felt a little shaky. Can anyone say insecure? And over a man that wasn't even hers.

The furrows disappeared and a little twinkle touched his eyes. "Did you find anything good?"

Varric nodded, "A few things. At least we'll make a little money."

"I found a little something that might help." He held out a short sword that glittered golden in the dim light with sparks of light over the ornate hilt.

She knew her eyes were wide and stunned; it was so ridiculously pretty, more than made any sense. "What is that?"

He gave her a wry look, "It's a short sword."

She slapped him lightly on the arm, "I can see that, you ass."

"Then why did you ask?" he smirked.

"What's it made of? Are those diamonds?" It couldn't be a real weapon.

"The gold is volcanic aurum, strong, sharp and very pricey. And yes those are diamonds." He turned it a little showing it off.

"I didn't even see you pick it up!" Bethany exclaimed.

"I have a few skills." He was still smirking and damn if she didn't want to just lick those pretty lips of his.

"Oh, I bet you do." She snickered.

He shook his head at her but didn't lose the cute little smirk he was wearing. He handed the dagger over to Varric. "I'm sure you can find the best way to put this to good use."

"Seems this little adventure ended up being more lucrative than we thought." The sword disappeared into his voluminous jacket along with the rest of their loot. "Shall we get going; it's getting a bit late."

In good spirits she pushed open the door, ready to wrap up the night. Anders followed behind her with Bethany and Varric bringing up the rear. She stopped suddenly when she saw Fenris leaning casually against the wall of the estate.

Anders bumped into her and grabbed her shoulders. "Sorry, you alright?"

"Any excuse to touch the pretty women, eh Anders?" Varric snickered.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "You do what you must."

"Oh, you don't need an excuse to touch me doll." She smiled wide at him.

They all quieted when Fenris started to speak, not bothering to even spare them a glance. "It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn." His voice was bitter, and angry. Finally, he looked at them. "It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul." His gaze bored into Bethany. "And now I find myself in the company of even more mages."

Well the man sure was dramatic.

Varric touched her arm lightly on his way past her, "I'm out of here, Hawke. Come by tomorrow."

Fenris didn't seem fazed by Varric's departure. He turned his attention to Hawke, standing a little too close to her. "You habor a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect it. That's in its nature."

Behind her she felt Bethany taking a small step backwards. Rage burned through her and she struggled not to just slit the bastard's throat. She wasn't sure why she hesitated; if he was a Templar he would have been already dead. There was a strong desire to smack the little shit for referring to her sister as an it.

They had just helped this prig not once, but twice and his response was to insult her sister? "Unlike the ungrateful little ex slave that tricked me into helping him in the Alienage? The same elf who we offered to help face his former master even after that little incident? It must be nice to have so many friends you can spit on the people who help you." Disgusted she turned to look at Anders and Bethany, "Come on you two, let's get out of here."

Bethany beamed, "Thanks, sis."

* * *

Anders kept his voice soft. He wanted Hawke to know he meant it. "Yes, thank you Hawke." Who did this elf think he was, was he trying to get Sekhmet to kill him?

Seeing that he was winning no battles Fenris seemed to change tactics, "Wait, I do not want to seem ungrateful. I do know that magic has its uses."

Anders rolled his eyes, yes, didn't want to _seem_ ungrateful, but still didn't apologize. The elf played word games as well as any Templar. He tuned the elf out; he wasn't interested in listening to more of his ranting. His life at the Circle had been filled with these rants, not so cleverly disguised as lessons.

Not to mention it was difficult to pay attention to what the elf was saying when Justice was babbling about Fenris' skin singing to him. Justice ached to run his fingers over the elf's tattoos. Being possessed with a spirit that had an obsession with lyrium could be trying at times.

Anders purposely tried to turn his focus elsewhere when he had a stray thought cross his mind wondering what it would feel like to lick the elf's tattoos. Now that was just a bad combination of obsessions, him with tattoos and Justice with lyrium. Because that was exactly what he needed, one more complication in his life. And what better complication than to have Justice drooling over a mage hating elf?

Turning to Bethany he tried to give her a reassuring smile; the girl had so many regrets about her magic already that she didn't need this idiot adding to them. She gave him a small, shy smile in return. Inside of the mansion she had spoken with him a little about her life and her magic, about how it affected her family. Which had led, of course, to him talking about the Templars. If the Templars didn't exist then she wouldn't have been chased and could have had a stable life wherever her family settled.

He wondered briefly how two women, raised in the same homes with the same family, and so close in age could be so different. But they were as different as night and day, Bethany even with all that fire power was shy and self conscious, where Hawke was bold and almost arrogant.

He looked back to Fenris and Hawke when the elf told her he was grateful for her help. A quiet scoff escaped his own lips and he caught Bethany smile out of the corner of his eye. Fenris either didn't hear him or ignored him he just handed Hawke the coin for the job.

Anders was more than ready to leave, but it seemed Hawke had more questions for Fenris. She asked Fenris about the slavers chasing him and he explained how he got his lyrium tattoos. He eyed Fenris carefully; trying not to rouse Justice again as he noticed, and how in the world had he missed it before, how the ink contoured the elf's lithe body. Now that _was_ interesting. How much of the elf's body was tattooed, was it everywhere like Zevran? Two elves with tattoos over their entire body? Life certainly was interesting sometimes.

He wondered exactly how the tattoos translated to the abilities Fenris had displayed inside the mansion. The elf seemed capable of sudden bursts of speed that rendered him little more than a blur, but only for short distances. Then there was how his tattoos would glow blue and his body would turn translucent for a time. And the weirdest of all was when he seemed to be able to move parts of himself through solid objects when in that state.

How did the lyrium not drive Fenris mad or addle his mind? He scowled, what did he care? The elf hated mages and made no secret of it. Fenris was getting himself wound up again as he spoke about his former owner, Danarius. Anders yawned; he wanted to go home he'd had enough fighting for one night.

Hawke broke out in a smile, "Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

That caught Anders' attention, he felt a sudden flicker of jealousy, which confused him; he wasn't prone to jealousy, especially for women he had only recently met. But then he saw the elf's whole posture change. Fenris seemed to soften in front of them like warm butter before chuckling nervously.

He shook his head, clever girl. It was yet another thing Hawke seemed to have a knack for; she knew how to find the chinks in just about anyone's armor. Maker knew she had assassin like precision with finding all of _his_ weak spots. The elf clearly had little experience with flattery and his anger was replaced with pleasant surprise. With the elf calm it was only a few more minutes before Hawke was finally ready to go.

And she wanted to work with the elf again? After speaking with her on Sundermount that was the last thing he had expected, why would she work with someone who so clearly hated mages? For now, it could wait. He was tired and he still had things that needed to be finished at the clinic before he even attempted sleep.

It would have been faster for Anders just to head to Darktown from Hightown, there were several entrances that would take him closer to his clinic, but he didn't feel right letting the girls walk home alone. He may have been just about the farthest thing from a knight there was, but it didn't mean he couldn't be chivalrous on occasion.

As they reached the bottom of the steps up to their uncle's house they slowed. Hawke shot him her little smirk and a wink, "Thank you for your help with everything Anders." With that she disappeared up the steps.

When Bethany didn't immediately follow he felt himself tense, had there been a reason for Hawke's smirk? "Bethany?"

"I…" she suddenly blushed. "Thank you for tonight." She bit her bottom lip and scuffed at the dirt with the toe of her boot.

He groaned inwardly, hoping this wasn't what he thought it was. On his list of things that would make his life more complicated, a crush from a blushing virgin, and Hawke's sister no less was definitely on the top. Tonight was just a string of things to make his life more difficult.

She looked up at him and her words came out in a rush, "It's nice to know that there are people on my side, sometimes I feel very alone."

He nodded, he hoped sympathetically. "I understand, but you must know your sister is always there for you."

She pressed her lips into a thin line before she nodded sharply. She paused for another moment before disappearing up the stairs herself. He shook his head and headed for Darktown with long strides, moving as far away from that house as he could as quickly as he could while trying to convince himself that Bethany was just being polite.


	7. Chapter 7

**Taking Down The Weak**

Two days, two Maker forsaken days and the damn elf wouldn't shut up. Every other word out of his mouth was about mages and how much he hated them, how dangerous they were. She had tried to ignore it but now even the sound of his voice was grating to her. Anger licked at her stomach like flames. She'd had enough; she stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around almost causing Fenris to run right into her. "Enough already. We get it, you hate all mages and wish they were all dead, now shut the fuck up."

Fenris looked at her stunned, "I didn't…"

The urge to choke him was nearly overwhelming. "Shut. Up. Do you understand? Stop fucking speaking." She shook her head, "Why the Void did I ever agree to work with you?" But she knew, she needed a blade, someone who could come close to keeping up with her at least. Fight after fight with only her on the front lines became tiresome for her.

Aveline was fine in a pinch, but she was busy with the guard and Sekhmet didn't like involving her in all the garbage she got herself involved with. In fact, she couldn't exactly remember the last time they had spoken other than in brief missives to each other.

Fenris, carrying that big blade with his surly attitude and his slightly awkward people skills had made her think of Carver. It was stupid she knew, but she missed Carver and had hoped for some connection with Fenris. What she got instead of a brother who couldn't stand her was a deadly elf that hated most of the people she knew.

But the bastard was quick and efficient. She'd never admit it out loud but fighting with him was almost as easy as it had been to fight with Carver at her side. If the elf could just keep his venom to himself he'd be damn near perfect, at least as a fighter.

Whenever he got too much for her to deal with she'd flash him a smile and flirt a little. It was cute to watch him melt like snow. But she was beyond her limit today and could not tolerate how he treated Bethany and Anders, or how he went on and on about mages being the downfall of mankind.

And today wasn't the first time she wondered how he had managed to keep his tongue while being a slave to a magister. Sure, he was useful, but he didn't need a tongue to fight and be a body guard. And whatever was going on between Fenris and Anders got ugly, often.

Anders was never more than a few steps away from her while Fenris travelled with them. Even in the heat of battle he stayed close using spells she had never seen before that seemed geared to close combat fighting. Just what had Anders done in the Wardens?

Her outburst at the elf had clearly surprised everyone. Bethany and Anders exchanged uncomfortable looks while Fenris suddenly became very interested in his feet. Anders started to move close to her again and she pinned him with her stare willing him to stay where he was.

Fenris had to learn that she didn't need Anders to protect her; it wasn't why Anders travelled with them. It was just something he apparently felt he needed to do since the moment he had met Fenris. Anders looked unhappy and almost a little hurt but nodded and stayed where he was.

She turned her attention and her pique back at Fenris. "You said you would watch them, and that's fine. Whatever. But seriously your constant bitching and complaining about mages is too much." And she knew it wasn't constant, mostly he was pretty quiet, but Sekhmet stewed. If something wasn't immediately forgotten it swam around and around in her head tugging at her nerves until she had to blow off steam or slaughter someone. "My _Father_ and _Sister_ are both mages. Anders, the man that heals you all the damn time and watches your back? He's a mage. Why would you think that I would want to hear that blather non stop?"

Anders smirked; too late he realized his mistake.

Him constantly putting himself between her and Fenris had been cute and charming at first, but at this point it was just annoying the piss out of her. He was treating her like she couldn't take care of herself, like she needed him to protect her. And half the time it was him that wound Fenris up so much.

Anders felt the need, for whatever reason to assert his alpha male role whenever Fenris was around. And Fenris responded exactly as one would predict an ex-slave of a mage would respond. Not to worry, she had enough anger for him too, she turned her glare to him, "And stop fucking goading him Anders, what are you, two?"

Anders bit his lip and looked at the ground she couldn't tell if he was genuinely contrite or was just trying to hide a smile but she really didn't care, they had work to do. She spun on her heel and continued up the Wounded Coast still fuming but wanting to save her energy. Anders still hadn't given her a clean bill of health from her last trip out to the Wounded Coast which was why he had demanded to join her.

Though, now that she was thinking about it, maybe he had just used it as an excuse so she wouldn't head off to the coast with Fenris without taking him. She had been planning on bringing Varric, but Anders had insisted on coming and Varric had some unexpected Merchant Guild business to take care of that couldn't wait. Or so he said.

Winding herself up again wondering if Varric had bowed out at the last minute so she would take Anders she couldn't wait to find the Tal-Vashoth. Oh, she had heard plenty of stories about how dangerous they were and how hard they were to fight but they hadn't met her yet and had certainly never seen her in an all out temper.

When they finally reached the Tal-Vashoth the fight was short and violent. She had felt like air, slipping through the brutes, her blades flying, feeling like a part of her. Hands and feet moving in a concert of death that felt extremely satisfying. As they grunted, shouted and fell around her she felt her anger ebbing away with their life blood.

She scanned the cave around her quickly and didn't see any enemies left standing. She started looking for her other companions, feeling guilty that she had let herself become so swept away, when she heard Fenris' voice ring through the cavern.

"I need one of you mages to get over here." His voice was short and terse.

And like that the euphoric feeling she had found in the wake of so much violent death was shattered. That deep voice of his grated across her ears giving her an immediate headache and breathing life into the anger she had thought had perished.

Fenris was pinned to a wooden beam with a large spear through his shoulder. Anders was already hurrying over to him. She sprinted and reached Fenris first. "Get away from him, Anders."

"But Hawke, his shoulder." He shifted as if to move around her.

"I see it, just back off." Her words were clipped as she tried not to let her anger bubble over; it was Fenris' shitty attitude that had pissed her off, not Anders. The tall mage nodded and moved away a bit though he kept watching her. She grabbed Fenris' shoulder and then the spear and yanked it loose.

His green eyes flared wide for a second with pain. "Thank you," his voice was quiet, but she wasn't fooled she could feel his irritation. "Now I need one of the mages to heal it."

She sneered at him and placed a poultice in his good hand, "Deal with it yourself. _Anders_ and _Bethany_ aren't going to be tending you today." She stressed both of their names, making sure that Fenris understood exactly why she was angry. Yet again he was looking to the two mages for help while refusing to so much as use their names. Bastard.

"But you can't leave him like that." Bethany's voice was quiet. "Just let me…"

"No," she snapped. Bethany was too sweet for her own good half the time. "He has nothing but contempt for mages unless he needs something from them. And even then he can't be civil about it." She kept her gaze on Fenris. "He can't even be bothered to ask, or use your names. Let him tend his own damn wounds." She took a step back and started heading for the mouth of the cave.

Anders was beside her in seconds, his voice quiet. She hated when he used that deferential tone on her, it meant he was already expecting an argument from her. "Sekhmet, I know you're angry, and I can't blame you." He looked back at Fenris who was cradling his arm as best he could as it hung limply. He lowered his voice a bit more, "But if you don't let one of us heal him, he might not get use of that arm back."

She looked back over her shoulder at Fenris, his glower still firmly in place. He was several yards behind them and Bethany was helping him wrap his shoulder with a poultice and some bandages. She lifted her chin defiantly as if challenging Sekhmet to argue with her for helping him. There was Bethany's steel, it made her happy to see it.

Anders was even worse than Bethany at times. Whatever else he was, Anders was first and foremost a healer. And he believed that even a bastard like Fenris deserved his care when needed. She looked up at him, the mage that kept surprising her and amusing her. He was a complicated man, but she was starting to believe that there would no way she would be able to let him go without learning all his secrets.

Smiling, she shook her head in disbelief and stroked his cheek gently. "You're amazing." Anders closed his eyes briefly, then took a step back as if startled. She looked away; it hurt when he did that. It was a back and forth tango with him. She moved forward, he would follow, sometimes he'd even lead a few steps, then he'd back pedal like it hurt to be near her. "Sorry." She murmured.

"Please, don't apologize." But his voice was tight, strained.

She sighed heavily, "Right." Pushing her frustration down she turned back to look at Fenris again. "Will it hurt him to go an hour or two without being healed?"

Anders looked uneasy; he clearly didn't like the idea. "Not unless we're attacked again."

"Why do you want to help him? He's so awful to you. Isn't it_ justice_ to make him have to live by what he says? If he hates mages so much, let him live without their help." This was a perfect example of why people like Anders and Bethany needed someone like her in their life. They were too nice, too sweet, too forgiving.

* * *

Anders could see her emotions swirling right below the surface, each a quick shine in her eyes before it disappeared again. She looked away from him as if she knew what he was seeing. Maker, he wished things weren't so awkward between the two of them. It was mostly his fault; he really struggled with how to be around her.

His defenses fell like dry dead leaves when she was around. He just liked being with her, she made him feel more focused, like he had a real tangible purpose and not just some loose ideals. She made him feel human again. And what did he do for her in return? He hurt her of course, again and again. He wanted her touch, wanted to touch her but it wasn't safe.

Even knowing it wasn't safe, he craved it and as if she heard him begging inside for a touch, for a little human contact she touched him, just light affection and he found himself drawn in only to be snapped back by Justice's sharp disapproval. And each time he recoiled he saw the pain he caused her. But in a day or two they would be right back at it again, because if she disappeared for too long, if she didn't come looking for him to help on a job he missed her and would go looking for her.

He told himself that he just needed a friend and she was the closest thing to one he had. Though, he wasn't even a particularly good friend. She seemed to be in pain so often, especially when they travelled with Fenris and he could provide her with no comfort. Part of him wanted to hug her and tell her it was alright. But another part, admittedly a larger part, wanted to get rid of Fenris permanently.

Trying to keep most of the thoughts at bay he asked the question that plagued him the most. "Why do you keep bringing him with us if it's so hard for you?"

"Are you hungry?"

Anders chuckled, she was deflecting; well it wasn't like he wasn't guilty of doing the same all too often.

Her lips curled into a devious little smile. "I'll make you a deal, we'll eat, and then _you_ can heal him."

"He'd prefer Bethany." It was true, Fenris really disliked him and he was just fine with that, encouraged it in fact.

The smile slipped away, "I know, that's why you're doing it. Besides, you're a better healer by far."

Was it just his imagination or did she smile less and less? "Punishing me and appealing to my ego? You're sending mixed signals." He almost took another step away from her when she flashed him a smirk with a hungry look.

"I don't know, I think I've been pretty clear about what I want. But, I'll try to be clearer in the future." She turned, not waiting for a response, and headed back towards Fenris and Bethany.

Anders' heart sped up in his chest; someday he would learn to keep his mouth shut. Preferably, before he died of heart failure. He moved across the cavern to where a fire was still lit. His light sparring with Hawke had taken him by surprise. If Justice didn't have such tight reins on him little things like that would barely have registered. As it was, each of their exchanges, no matter how innocuous, made him reel. He sat down and pulled a pouch of nuts and dried fruit from his pack, a diversion was what he needed.

The others joined him, each pulling their own snacks out. The four of them munched in silence and avoided each other's gazes. They were such a cozy bunch. He couldn't help but glance at Fenris' shoulder periodically. The bandages were already red, either Bethany hadn't tightened the bandages much or Fenris was bleeding worse than he realized.

He nudged Hawke with his foot and when she looked at him he glanced over at Fenris, she followed his gaze, but if she was concerned she didn't show it. She gave a little shrug and continued to eat in silence. He sat for a few more minutes, trying not to worry about it before getting up and moving behind Fenris. No matter what an ass the elf was he couldn't leave him to suffer.

"What are you doing?" Fenris' voice was quiet, without his usual angry edge to it.

"Just hold still." He murmured, his magic already cascading over the shoulder.

"Anders" Hawke's voice was tight, angry.

He looked at her and knew she was going to be furious with him, but Fenris was bleeding too much. He held his hand over Fenris' shoulder and let his healing energy flare brighter. Fenris actually sighed as the energy moved into his damaged shoulder and started knitting it back together.

When he looked back to Hawke she was staring into the fire, her jaw set. He turned his attention back to healing Fenris' shoulder. "Move your arm and fingers. How does it feel?"

Fenris lifted his arm and moved it around. He flexed his fingers a few times experimentally. "A little tight." His voice was still very quiet.

He pulled his attention away from Hawke's rigid posture, needing his mind on his task. "Alright, hold your arm out in front of you." As Fenris' did as he requested he let a brief pulse of warmth flow into the shoulder. "Okay, now move it."

Fenris started moving his arm, "That feels, odd."

"Keep moving it." A few seconds later everything felt normal in the elf's shoulder and he stopped his magic. "Now?"

Fenris moved and flexed his arm experimentally. "Good." There were several beats of silence and he moved back to where he had been sitting. "Thank you."

He looked up, surprised. Fenris wasn't looking at him but he nodded in acknowledgement anyways.

Hawke put her food away, took a long pull on her waterskin and put that away as well. She stood, "Come on, let's get going." She turned and headed for the exit, "Bethany, can you put that fire out?"

* * *

Hawke hadn't really spoken to him after that and the trip back to Kirkwall had been tense and silent. When they reached Kirkwall Hawke left Bethany at Gamlen's, and the younger sister surprised him by not arguing with her about it, just went quietly inside. They stopped to get Varric before the four of them headed to the Qunari compound on the docks to meet with the Arishok and the dwarf Javaris. Anders actually found himself glad that Fenris had come along.

Maybe because he respected the Arishok, or maybe because he was trying to make nice with Hawke Fenris spoke with the Arishok even managing to impress the great horned Qunari. The supposed deal turned out to be a bust, Fenris even going so far as to offer to kill the dwarf for the Arishok. Hawke had looked pleased with the prospect but the Arishok told her that Jarvaris wasn't worth it.

The dwarf left snarling curses but Hawke didn't seem to mind. She was more curious about the Qunari.

A little scrap of a girl, standing before the mountain that was the Arishok and she was not intimidated or scared. She faced him asking anything and everything she wanted, being respectful to a certain degree but also her irreverent self. The Arishok seemed fascinated with her and Anders understood the feeling, but was grateful when they finally took their leave.

He was more than a little disappointed when Hawke jogged up the steps into Gamlen's without so much as looking at him.

She hadn't spoken to him for four days after that incident. He thought about going to see her, but decided it would be best to give her some time. So he worked in his clinic, keeping himself busy and tried not to think about her or the disappointed look she had on her face the last time he saw her.

The door to his clinic swung open and he found himself looking up hopefully and scowled when he saw Bethany, alone. What was the fool girl doing wandering around the Undercity by herself? A girl like her could get killed or worse in Darktown. He finished healing his patient's broken leg and let the parents know it would ache for a few days before crossing his clinic quickly to Bethany.

"What are you doing here?" He asked a little more harshly than strictly necessary.

The girl recoiled in on herself a little. "I," her tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip nervously, "I wondered if you could help me with my healing."

Anders scowled, "Your healing is fine Bethany and certainly no reason to go wondering around Darktown alone."

"Killing stuff isn't the problem." Bethany looked away from him and chewed on her thumb nail. "You…you've seen her scar?"

He shook his head, he'd seen several but none he would think of as very significant.

She dropped her hand and chewed her lip momentarily instead. "Between her bull headedness and my lack of healing ability I almost lost her, more than once." She looked up at him suddenly, "Please Anders, I just need to know that I can help her if for some reason you're not there."

His first instinct was to say no, "Did she send you so she wouldn't need to bring me along anymore? Is she that angry with me?"

Bethany scowled, "No, she's upset yes, but she didn't send me. She'd probably be as angry to know I was here alone as you were when I got here."

So at least she wasn't trying to replace him. A part of him still wanted to refuse her; his life had been busy enough even before he had met the Hawke sisters. But he genuinely liked Bethany, she was sweet and smart and it would be nice not to be the only healer around for once. "If you can put up with me as a teacher I would be happy to teach you." Bethany's smile was so sudden and so brilliant it caught Anders completely by surprise and he smiled back.

He had to suppress a groan when she blushed, now that he did not need. He wasn't sure how he kept convincing himself that Bethany didn't have a crush on him, but when she looked at him like that and blushed it was hard to deny. Though, for the sake of his own sanity he'd likely convince himself otherwise again. One Hawke sister was bad enough, and he was pretty sure he was more than a few years Bethany's senior.

It occurred to him, for only a moment, how different he was than he had been, before Justice he would have been perversely tickled pink at the idea of sisters fawning over him. _"Justice, you have sucked all the fun out of my life." _He grumbled silently to the spirit.

He took a deep breath and couldn't help himself from asking. "So, about the other day, how angry is she?"

Bethany's body tensed a little but she chuckled, "She'll forgive you, she just thinks you were too nice to Fenris."

"Does she really hate him that much?" It didn't make sense to him to waste that much energy on the elf, but what did he know? He didn't think he was worth wasting energy on, yet she did, repeatedly.

"She's big on making a point. If she hated him she wouldn't waste her time with him at all." She was young, but Bethany was unusually insightful when it came to her older sister.

He wondered sometimes if she knew her older sister better than Hawke did. He was quiet for several minutes, over the last few days he had felt Hawke's absence acutely and he just wanted the exile to end. "Would it help if I went to speak with her?"

They had been walking to his small desk when she stopped and turned to him, her face pensive and just a touch sad. "Anders, do you love Sekhmet?"

Wow, that came out of nowhere. "I…She…She's been very good to me, to mages. I don't want to lose her friendship."

She watched him for another minute and he tried not to fidget under her gaze. How had he never noticed Bethany could give Hawke a run for her money when she was scrutinizing someone? He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

"There are no half measures with her, Anders. It's all or nothing." The sadness was gone, she just looked determined.

The look reminded him of Hawke. Maybe the two of them weren't as different as he had thought. He nodded, "I've seen how dedicated she is."

She shook her head in obvious frustration and glared at him, "Stop it. I won't tell her. Just, please, remember what I said. She's more fragile than she likes people to think. Papa's death…she took it badly, and she has been… different since."

He knew he was pressing his luck; it was none of his business but it seemed important to understand these women. "What happened to him?"

She suddenly looked bitter and snorted. "He helped the wrong group of people."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He'd never been terribly fond of spilling secrets.

She looked him over again, assessing him possibly before she relaxed a bit and started to speak. "No, maybe you should know. Maybe it will help you understand. Papa had been called to a neighbor's farmstead. Some knew what he was, and he was happy to help when he could. The farmer's wife was giving birth and was having trouble. So Papa went, and Sekhmet with him.

"The baby was delivered, safe and sound. On the way home they came across a caravan being attacked by bandits. A woman was being pulled into the bushes by one of the men and Papa hit him with lightning so he would let go of her.

"He and Sekhmet ended up in a fight with the bandit's trying to protect the people of the caravan." She paused and took a deep breath. "Sekhmet says while they were still fighting off the bandits a man climbed out of one of the wagons in Templar armor and headed straight for Papa. She screamed and ran but didn't get there in time." She turned away from Anders. "He…took Papa's head right off." She was shaking a little and a tear rolled down her face.

"Oh, Maker." His words were barely above a whisper, Hawke had seen that. Seen her father murdered, decapitated right in front of her. Poor girl.

Bethany was angry now when she started speaking again. "That coward hid in the wagon during the bandit attack, but came out just to kill my father, who was _helping_ him. The Templar got pulled into the fight; he had no choice at that point. The bandits finally left, probably deciding the caravan was too much trouble."

"What happened to the Templar?" Was that how Hawke's animosity against the Templars started?

Bethany looked back at him, her face tear streaked, but she gave him a small smile. It was almost gruesome, "Sekhmet happened to him. I don't know what she did, she doesn't talk about it, but I heard whispers around Lothering. He was dead, but they couldn't identify him. They knew he was a Templar from the armor, but nothing else.

"She was injured badly, but she carried our father's body all the way home. She collapsed in the doorway, with him still in her arms and blood all down the front of her. Carver wouldn't let me near her until he had moved Papa's body.

"By then, I thought I had lost her. I did my best to heal her, but it was all I could do just to close the wound and keep her alive. Mother was devastated, and Carver blamed Sekhmet. Carver made her stand with us at the pyre as we burned our father's body even though she was barely conscious. Told her it was the least she could do since she had let him die.

"I thought mother would say something, would tell Sekhmet it wasn't her fault, but she was so grief stricken she didn't speak a word for weeks. I think Sekhmet took that as mother agreeing with Carver. And nothing I said or did seemed to make a difference.

"Sekhmet changed a lot after that. She went out all the time carousing, she was carried home more than once." Bethany bit her lip looking a little unsure for a moment. "And she got a bit of a reputation in Lothering, though none of us ever spoke of it."

He wasn't sure he wanted to ask, wasn't sure he could handle it, but couldn't help himself. "What kind of a reputation?"

She closed her eyes, "You can't ever tell her I told you this, but I heard them call her a doxie in the Chantry once. I heard her called worse too, but…"

He nodded, he got the idea, and it wasn't the reputation that bothered him, but how they must have treated her. You don't say things like that in a Chantry if you're being kind to a woman. And she had just lost her father. People could be cruel.

Bethany spoke quickly as if suddenly regretting telling him, "She was just lost. She was hurting and didn't know what to do with it, and we all depended on her so much. Everything fell to her when papa died."

"Beth, relax. I won't tell her, and I understand better than you think. I promise, I don't think any less of her."

She nodded, "She's not like that anymore anyways. Not since the Blight. She only drinks with Varric at the Hanged Man and she hasn't…" her words trailed off again. She tried a small smile and it was a little shaky. "But she can't seem to stop the flirting."

He gave her a wry smile, "I noticed."

She shrugged, "She's always been a bit of a flirt, even before papa died." She canted her head and looked him over again, "I wonder sometimes, if she sees in you a chance at redemption."

He felt his gut twist. Was that it? She wanted to save him because she hadn't been able to save her father? If that was it, if she was trying to save him, she was going to be disappointed. There was no way to save him, the damage was already done and his course was already set.

She suddenly laughed a little, the sound rich and charming. "I think you confuse her."

"Then that makes us even, she confuses me." She did, boy Maker did she ever.

"I should probably get back, she'll be worried." Bethany moved towards the door. "Give her another day or so, she'll be fine. She'll probably act like it never happened." She stopped and gave him an impish smile. "And if she still seems agitated, smile at her, she thinks your smile is cute." She disappeared out his door.

"Cute, right." He slumped into the small chair he used at his desk. He stared at the door for a few moments; the day had been enlightening and more than a bit sobering. What had happened to Hawke's father explained a lot, the pain she must have gone through was something he couldn't really even fathom. And it more than explained the darkness he sensed in her. Or maybe he was just imagining it, trying to convince himself she was more like him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Collecting Crazy-Straight Laced**

He'd been happy to see her this morning, when she walked into the clinic with a smile on he felt a great weight lifting from him. His banishment had ended. But now as they scaled the steps to the Viscount's Keep he wondered if maybe he should have asked more questions before agreeing to help her out for the day. He'd been so relieved to see her smile again he hadn't even bothered to ask what was going on.

He kept pace with her as she jogged up the steps; with his long legs it was easy. "Uh, Hawke?" he was quiet not wanting anyone to know he was a little concerned about their destination.

"Yes, Anders?" She was quiet as well, her eyes far off as if her mind were somewhere else.

He held back his frustration, he had just gotten back into her good graces and he didn't want to start a fight. "Is there a reason you're taking me to the Viscount's Keep?"

She still didn't look at him as she tugged open the heavy door to the Keep and stepped quickly inside. "We need to go see Aveline."

"And who is Aveline?" Was it just his imagination or was she heading to the guard barracks?

"She's a guard. Came here with us from Ferelden." Just a statement, not realizing the impact of her words perhaps.

He moved closer to her, Maker the woman was short. He felt like a giant looming over her. He lowered his voice again, the close quarters worrying him that people might over hear him. "You are aware that I am a wanted apostate right?"

She stopped and looked up at him with a little smirk, "Am I aware that you're wanted?" She let her eyes slowly slide over him and he felt his skin flushing at the slow perusal. "Yes, darling I am _very_ aware of how much you're _wanted_."

Half a dozen responses popped into mind, each one more inappropriate than the last. He sighed, such a pretty little thing and he had her full attention, for the moment. It felt good; it was nice to feel wanted again. Why couldn't he have found her a year ago? All well, back to the matter at hand. "Why didn't I know you had a friend in the guard?"

Her smirk slid out of place, she was back to business as well. "It's not exactly something either of us advertises."

Interesting, "Why? Do you not like each other?"

"Aveline is a fine person, someone you want on your side but…she's in the guard and I'm a criminal. So it's in both our interests to limit contact to a certain degree." She shrugged a little.

It was as good an explanation as any. "Fine, then why are we here?"

He could hear in her voice that she was getting tired of the conversation but she answered anyways. "Because we need money, a paying job and I thought she might have a job or at least some ideas."

"Wait, what?" She was putting him in danger of being exposed and there wasn't even any work for him yet? "So you brought me to the guard barracks and we don't even have a job yet?"

She reached out her hand for a moment, her fingers nearly touching his sleeve before she dropped it back to her side without having touched him. "It'll be fine, Anders." She gave him a little smile.

Placating him, just what he needed, he muttered to himself but didn't speak up again. First a blood mage, then a mad lyrium coated elf and now a city guard? Right, because why wait for the Templars to come find you when you can go begging for trouble.

As they entered the barracks he ducked his head, trying to stay as out of sight as best he could, even though he was by far the tallest in the group. "Don't mind me; I'm just going to hide my face a little."

"Aww, but it's such a pretty face." Hawke teased.

He ignored her and concentrated on paying attention to his surroundings to see if there was anyone who looked familiar. His chest felt tight with a mix of frustration and irritation with himself that he was always so willing to go along with Hawke on her little jaunts. Well, at least it couldn't get much worse.

* * *

Aveline was tall woman, squared shoulders and a firm jaw lent her a slightly mannish look but she had beautiful ginger colored hair tied to hang down her back. She had adorable freckles on fine skin, nearly as pale as Hawke's. Not exactly beautiful but handsome in her way, and the guard armor she wore suited her. Her attention seemed riveted to some papers tacked to the wall and Hawke stood behind her for a few minutes waiting for the guard to acknowledge her.

"Why Aveline, your sword and shield are absolutely gleaming today. Seems you've been very busy." Hawke was teasing the guard and Anders just hoped she was in a good mood.

When Aveline turned around to look at Hawke he saw that she had eyes the color of grass in high summer. Handsome, yes he'd had it right the first time. She looked tired and just the slightest bit annoyed, "Just here to harass me, Hawke?"

"Not exactly, but I have heard you've been poking around my business again." Her tone was still light but her eyes were narrow, focused.

"The one good thing about this job is that I can keep tabs on how much trouble you're causing." Aveline's tone mirrored Hawke's own.

"Aveline." One word, but filled with all her frustration.

"You've been involving yourself in dangerous things Hawke." He swore the guard had looked at him when she said it but he kept his mouth shut. "Stop courting death and I can stop keeping an eye on you." She took a deep breath and looked to the floor for a moment, her face becoming a bit sad. "After everything we went through, after…" It hung in the air, Hawke looking at the ground as well now. Finally, Aveline lifted her head and looked at Hawke. "I look after my friends."

Hawke gave her a little smile but didn't say anything.

Switching gears the tall guard brushed aside their somber conversation, "So, what exactly are you doing here?"

"You wouldn't happen to have some paying work for a friend would you?" Back to her more relaxed tones now.

"Actually," and that was all Anders heard as Aveline pulled Sekhmet away to talk in hushed tones in the corner.

Hawke scowled every now and then while the two of them spoke and he had a brief flash of hope that t Hawke might just leave and try again later, when he wasn't with her. Right now he could feel eyes on him and it made him uncomfortable. He should be used to it; he was usually the tallest person in the room, although the room usually wasn't filled with city guards. Anyone of whom might figure out who or at least what he was and arrest him to be dragged to the Gallows. Why hadn't he waited outside? Oh, right, loitering outside the Viscount's Keep looked suspicious.

Aveline nodded finally and walked away,Hawke rejoined him and Bethany.

"So, it looks like there has been an ambush set up on Sundermount, probably for a caravan. It's not exactly on Aveline's watch but it needs to be taken care of. Aveline says she knows a shortcut to the area so we won't be kept out on the mountain overnight." And did she ever look disappointed about that.

Aveline rejoined them with a small pack on her back, "Supplies, just in case."

Hawke nodded and the four of them left the Keep. Once they were down the long staircase Hawke stopped, "Aveline, this is Anders. He's a healer."

Aveline's eyes narrowed, "An apostate?"

Hawke nodded, "Yes."

"Hawke, I can't…" She looked angry.

Hawke cut her off, "You can or we won't be working together."

Anders just stood there quietly waiting to see what would happen. He'd run if he needed to, he knew a quick way into Darktown from where they were and he could get lost among the refugees in moments. He felt the guard's green as grass eyes looking him over carefully. He stood still, confident; let her think what she will. And she didn't even know the worst part.

"You've worked with him before?" The guardswoman asked, quieter, more reserved.

"I haven't done a whole lot without him since I met him a few months ago." Hawke wasn't pushing either. No brashness, no smart remarks, not even a spark of her humor. How very odd.

Aveline's gaze traveled up to his face finally. "You wouldn't happen to be the healer running the clinic in Darktown would you?"

Anders couldn't help himself they were all so serious. He gave an exaggerated bow, "At your service, serrah."

She snorted, "No wonder you're friends with Hawke, birds of feather right? You do good work; the Fereldens I meet speak very highly of you. I suppose if you run a free clinic and Hawke is vouching for you, you can't be all bad."

"I'm not bad at all, I'm quite good or so I'm told." The woman was a natural straight man, he couldn't stop himself.

She just shook her head, only a slight crinkling by her eyes any indication that she was amused at all. "Oh yes, definitely a friend of Hawke's."

Hawke rolled her eyes at the exchange, "Are we ready then?"

A half day's hike later and they found the bandits entrenched on Sundermount. The fight was brutal and protracted. And when the battle was over, the bandits lying dead, they found that the weapons and armor they wore were good quality, not the usual fare for bandits and thieves.

Hawke scanned the area before turning back to Aveline, "Is it just me or did they seem better trained too?"

Aveline nodded, "No, I agree. Something's odd, but dead is dead, right? Let's head back to the Keep, I'll tell the Captain and we can collect you're reward."

The walk back to the Keep was mostly silent. He wasn't really paying attention to the others, he had his own worries. Kirkwall was a hot bed for criminals; they nearly outnumbered the rest of the city's population. And as well equipped and trained as the bandits were he knew they belonged to a faction, not just a run of the mill group of thieves.

Likely they were Coterie. He'd dealt with them several times before and they weren't to be trifled with. When they reached the Keep he moved close to Hawke, positioning himself between the sisters so Bethany wouldn't overhear. "I have a bad feeling about all this. Kirkwall has a huge criminal underground. We might have just bitten off more than we can chew."

Hawke shook her head, as Aveline went into her captain's office and closed the door. "Don't worry about it. I know a thing or two about the criminal underground around here. They won't attack us unless there is a very, very good reason."

She seemed very sure of that, her attitude had been almost cocky but he didn't push it further, couldn't have even if he wanted to because at that moment shouting erupted `from the captain's office. The captain was giving Aveline a dressing down for interfering with someone else's patrol. He even went so far as to threaten to jail Aveline and Hawke.

Aveline came out of the office and the door slammed behind her. Her face scarlet and her jaw set in anger. "Threaten my friends; I'm not letting that one go, captain." She spoke with a quiet intensity and Anders realized what a bad idea it would be to get on her bad side.

Hawke gave her a wry little smile, "So, no reward, huh?"

Aveline scowled, "Something's not right. This isn't the first time he's made me wonder."

Hawke pushed off the wall she was leaning on and strolled over to the duty roster. "Well we can drop it, like your odd Captain suggests. Or, we can have some more fun and find out whose ass we just saved."

He sighed softly, supposing it was too much to hope either of them would just let it go.

As she got close a mousy looking brunette came barreling towards Aveline with her brow furrowed, "Aveline, I have to thank you for taking care of that business up on the pass. I would have been dead for sure."

"That was oddly convenient." Hawke raised an eyebrow, "You had that patrol alone?"

She nodded, "Yeah, shouldn't have needed anyone besides me. That place has been quiet for weeks. Captain had me turn over the satchel to Donnic when he heard what happened."

It was Aveline's turn to raise a brow, "Satchel?"

The mousy brunette nodded again, "Yeah, Captain has us do runs when we have quiet patrols. Mostly it's a copy of the updated roster. Satchel for that night was heavy though." She gave a little shrug, obviously dismissing the whole incident. "Thanks again, Aveline, you're a good one." She disappeared back into the room she had come from as quickly and brusquely as she had appeared.

Aveline was studying the duty roster. "The satchel gets heavy the same night as there is a bandit attack?" She shook her head as she skimmed the roster, "Donnic, Donnic, a good man. Ah, got him, night time patrol in Lowtown." She turned to Hawke, "We have to check this out, he might be in danger."

"Of course, Aveline, let's go find him."

He had watched the whole scene a bit dispassionately, resigning himself to being pulled into whatever was going on. As the four of them headed to Lowtown he noted that Aveline didn't smile much and that on the few occasions that Hawke smiled it was at the red haired woman rather than with her. Hawke seemed gentle with the woman for some reason, far more so than she was with anyone else.

He wondered about it as they trekked through the city. He realized he didn't know a whole lot about Hawke. Like who was this woman who had come from Lothering with them? The two of them seemed to have a sort of protective feeling towards each other, but they didn't seem to exactly be friends. How had they met and what bonded them? Was it just the Blight?

He dropped back a little to fall into step beside Bethany; she gave him a small smile and flushed. He ignored it; he had more pressing questions and now was not the best time to address the matter of the girl's crush anyway. "So, how do you two know Aveline?"

Bethany chewed her lip for a moment, "It's a not very funny, funny story."

"Alright." Even more confused.

She was fiddling with a corner of her chainmail, not looking at him as she spoke. "When we were escaping Lothering we came across Aveline and her husband Wesley."

"Oh, she's married?" The way Bethany bit her lip again told him he had stumbled across something unpleasant.

"When we found them they were alone, fighting a pocket of Darkspawn." She smiled a little, "You should have seen Aveline. She was so tough, so...amazing." The smile faltered then slipped away again. "Wesley was injured right before we came upon them. But between Aveline, and the three of us we killed the rest of the Darkspawn that had been attacking them. It was only afterwards we realized Wesley was a Templar."

He felt the blood leave his face, had Hawke killed Aveline's husband? Everyone knew Hawke held no love for Templars, but that didn't make any sense. They weren't exactly comfortable together, but neither were they at each other's throats, far from it in fact. He kept his mouth shut and let Bethany continue. Wild conjecture was pointless when he had Bethany to question. For a moment he felt guilty, like he was exploiting the girl's crush for information and on her sister no less. _"See little Hawke, I'm a bad man."_ The girl needed a gentleman, not a cynical possessed mage.

Bethany kept talking, sweet thing that she was, so openly sharing her life. "Needless to say he realized I was an apostate. I thought Sekhmet was going to gut him right there, her dagger already pointing at him as she hissed at him angrily. It was…" she snorted, "pure Sekhmet. But before Sekhmet killed the man Aveline intervened. She convinced us all to work together until we were clear of the Blight, because it was a bigger threat. Sekhmet wasn't pleased, but she agreed with prompting from both me and Carver, obviously the more of us there were, the better our chances were for survival.

Unfortunately, Wesley was so badly injured he couldn't help us fight, so we had to protect him as well as mother. We were hitting so many pockets of Darkspawn I conserved my mana for fighting. He wasn't bleeding terribly, and could walk alright so I figured why waste my mana."

He nodded; it was hard to make calls like that when you were in a situation with Darkspawn. There were always so bloody many of them. He looked up and saw that Aveline and Hawke were deep in conversation, it was probably better; he wasn't sure how they would feel about him digging into their business.

"It didn't end up mattering anyway, Wesley had the Blight sickness. His skin became pale and clammy looking with long black veins running over it. His eyes became unfocused then clouded over. He knew he was dying and begged Aveline to kill him instead of letting him suffer or be a burden to us as we tried to survive. I thought Sekhmet was going to offer to do it at first, not because of how she feels about Templars but we could all see how it was eating at Aveline.

"The two of them just stared at each other for a few minutes before Sekhmet told her, 'He's your husband, the decision is yours,' and moved back a little. I thought I would be sick. He was her husband, how could she kill him? He tucked a dagger into her hand and gave her a smile telling her to be brave. So she…" Bethany's eyes got a little misty. "she just did it."

His stomach turned, it almost seemed cruel that Hawke made Aveline kill her own husband, but how would Aveline have handled traveling with a woman who had killed her husband, regardless of the reason. Maybe Hawke knew what she was doing, at a loss he kept silent and listened to Bethany.

She nodded towards the two women in front of them. "I don't know if they exactly like each other. But they respect each other. I think Aveline is one of the few people we know that understands my sister. Not necessarily the things that she does, but the way she thinks. Either one of them would give everything they had to protect the other. It's the closest thing to a real friend that I can remember Sekhmet having."

He furrowed his brow in confusion, "Really? But everyone seems to like her."

Bethany shrugged, "Yeah, but she doesn't really trust them."

"She doesn't trust the people she fights with everyday? Doesn't she kind of have too; I mean everyone has to watch out for each other." Though, who was he kidding, he had been a Warden, just because you fought together didn't mean you trusted each other. He had never trusted Rolan.

Bethany laughed, "Then you're seeing something I'm not. Most of the time Sekhmet fights like she's all alone out there, like she has to kill everything herself."

"We're close, be ready." Aveline's voice was quiet but easily carried to the two of them.

They heard a commotion coming from an alley and they quickly headed down it. A young city guard stood surrounded by well armed bandits. He was doing an admirable job of fighting them off but they outnumbered him by a large margin.

One of the bandits struck him in the back of the head and he went down, but by then Aveline and Hawke were already cutting into the bandits surrounding the now unconscious man to protect him while Bethany was throwing fireballs, scattering and charring those on the fringes of the group, being careful of Aveline and Hawke in the middle.

Anders used ice to incapacitate the bandits, slowing them down for Aveline and Hawke to dispatch. He didn't want to use too much offensive magic and worry Aveline. Of course, he took care of any injuries they sustained, though there were only a couple scrapes.

Finally, the bandits all lay dead around them and Aveline went to help the dazed guard to his feet. The guard stammered out something about Aveline being a beautiful sight and Anders saw Aveline smile for the first time and was a little charmed by it; it was tentative and almost shy. Endearing in the fierce woman she tried, and mostly succeeded, to portray.

Hawke was looking through the dropped satchel. She shook her head and he crouched beside her to take a look. "Office accounts, schedules," he sighed, "definitely not the kind of information you want thieves to get their hands on."

Hawke let out a harsh laugh, "Guard Captain, Aveline I think your boss is looking to become a politician."

He was inclined to agree but Aveline's sour expression kept him quiet. "This isn't the time Hawke. The Captain is giving away government secrets with a guard as the sacrificial lamb. He _will_ answer for this." She headed out of the alley supporting Donnic as they left muttering under her breath. "He likes his thieves so much, let's see how he likes being imprisoned with them."

Bethany walked next to Aveline, probably waiting quietly to see if Aveline wanted her to heal Donnic. Aveline had waived her off before Donnic had been completely conscious telling Bethany she didn't need the complication. Perhaps Aveline thought Donnic hadn't noticed the two mages throwing around ice and giant fireballs.

He chuckled a little at the thought and Bethany looked back at him with her cheeks pink before quickly looking away. He was going to have to find a way to deal with that soon. For now he just admired her stamina. They had spent the entire day running around Kirkwall and fighting. He was exhausted, feeling every inch the old man while Bethany was still walking with a little bounce in her step.

He fell into step beside Hawke who was strolling slowly as she pored over the documents in the satchel. She glanced up and gave him a smile then returned to her reading, her white hair falling over her shoulder. He tried not to think about how often he walked beside her and watched her, it just felt comfortable to be with her. At least until she decided to tease him again.

But he had a specific agenda tonight, "So Aveline's the all business type?", trying to learn more about the odd relationship between the two women.

Hawke stuffed the sheaf of papers back in the satchel and looked at him as she continued to walk. "She was a soldier in King Cailan's army. I think it comes with the territory." Looking at Aveline she paused for a moment before she gave a little sigh, "She's still trying to find a way to beat back the scars that day left on all of us."

"When you found her and Wesley?" His heart sped up a little when he realized she would know he had been prying information from her sister. Maybe he would be lucky and she wouldn't notice.

No such luck, she was clearly surprised, but not angry. "Uh, no, the day at Ostagar. Carver and I fought that day too, Carver was a soldier, I was just a local conscript." She took a slow breath her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, like just speaking was wearing her out. The past could do that to you sometimes. "What Loghain did, well I'm not sure Aveline will ever really get over it. A man who had been one of her heroes abandoned us all to die, including the king. I mean, you know what happened, I'm sure. But it was different for those who were there. I think it stole a piece of her, maybe she'll get lucky and find it again."

"And what about you? Did you lose something that day?" She was too young to have seen so much, to have lost so much. Seeing her father murdered in front of her, facing the Blight and Loghain's betrayal and then to watch her brother die after the two of them managed to survive Ostagar.

Hawke shook her head, "Anything I could have lost that day was gone a long time ago." Her hand stirred, lifted a little from her side before she dropped it again, a gesture he was becoming intimately familiar with. Her eyes showed all the experience of her life for a moment. There were moments, like this one, where Sekhmet seemed older than any of them. She flashed him a smile and winked at him, destroying the illusion. "But don't worry your pretty little head about it."

And that was her shutting down, conversation over. He could try to push her but decided not to argue with her, he had already pushed her enough. If she wanted to stop talking about it he would honor that. Besides, Aveline seemed to temper her, made her more somber and he wasn't sure what to make of this more subdued woman yet. He let himself fall back behind her so he wouldn't be tempted to push, wouldn't intrude on her thoughts. Silently, he followed the three women and Donnic to the Viscount's Keep.

Aveline woke the seneschal to give him the disturbing news of what they had found. Looking through the satchel the Seneschal immediately had the Captain arrested. He kept Aveline and Hawke to answer questions, Anders was just happy he didn't get roped into that mess. The Captain had been dragged out kicking and screaming.

He and Bethany went outside to get away from the commotion and to wait for Hawke. Anders quickly became lost in his thoughts. Ostagar, the word was like a curse now. The place that had brought a country to its knees. The place where a Hero turned into a villain, a mass murderer. A place filled with monsters that had changed the course of history.

His brother had died there, a man he had never met. A man he sometimes thought of as foolish and other times as incredibly brave. A man who had died trying to live up to the legacy of their father. Sometimes he nearly wept for Cailan, especially after talking to 'Reyna about him.

Ostagar had brought 'Reyna and Alistair together but at such a terrible price. And perhaps that was the one good thing to come out of that awful place. Two people who never would have met were thrown together and fell in love because of that awful battle, that terrible betrayal.

Even the word brought a haunted look to all of those who had been there. 'Reyna, Alistair, Wynn, even Zevran was subdued at its mention and he had not been at the battle, had only seen the terrible aftermath. Seeing Cailan strung up like a prize had shaken him, even though he never admitted it out loud. And now Hawke, she'd had that haunted look too.

Everytime he thought he understood what that terrible nightmare was, he was presented with something more to send his head spinning again. His thoughts were interrupted by Bethany.

Her voice was a little timid as she spoke. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm? Just thinking." Yes, a string of sad memories that would spiral him down into melancholy. A pattern he couldn't seem to break.

"Are you thinking about her?" A little waver in her voice now.

He turned finally to look at her, curious about her voice. The girl wouldn't even look him in the eye and she was fiddling with a corner of her chainmail again. "About who Beth?"

She smiled a little, "I like it when you call me Beth."

"I'll try to remember that." Harmless right?

She sobered again. "Were you thinking about my sister? You look at her differently than you look at me."

Nice, how to maneuver through this mess. "Well, you're different people, so it makes sense I would look at you differently."

"I'm not as innocent and naïve as you seem to think." Her chin jutted defiantly and he almost smiled, it was just so cute. She took a deep breath, "Anders, I…" She stopped her cheeks flaming crimson before she lowered her head a little. "What were you thinking about?"

He chose to ignore her little lapse, considered himself lucky she didn't say anything to make this more awkward. "I was thinking about Ostagar and the people I know that fought there."

She seemed to relax at his confession. "Oh?"

"It just really affected their lives a great deal. Look at you and your family, at Aveline. So much forced change, so much upheaval." He tapered off; he didn't really want to talk about it now.

"Just another move." She mumbled, not looking at him, her eyes downcast.

Anders didn't respond, what could he possibly say, so the two of them lapsed into silence again. He wasn't sure how long they had been sitting there but it was late when Hawke finally emerged from the Keep. She strolled down and stood a few steps below them.

She gave a little snort, "They're going to make Aveline the new Captain."

Bethany laughed, "Well isn't that just about perfect for her?"

Hawke nodded, "Don't guess we'll be seeing much of her anymore, being criminals and all."

Bethany shook her head, "She'll make time, you know her. She never gets enough of doing the right thing."

Hawke gave a half hearted smile, "Yes, she is quite tedious." A big yawn, "Hmmm, maybe we should head back to uncle Gamlen's."

He nodded, "Come on, I'll walk with you." Bethany beamed at him and fell into step beside him. He turned to look at Hawke who already seemed lost in her own thoughts. But she fell into step with them, walking next to him after just a brief moment and they all headed back to Lowtown.


	9. Chapter 9

**Collecting Crazy-Unlaced**

The walk back to Lowtown seemed to take ages. Bethany tried to start conversations with Anders a few times but he was preoccupied with Hawke. She still looked as if her thoughts were elsewhere and she kept silent, rare in and of itself, and it worried him.

She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin had a sickly pallor to it. Was the illness rearing its head again? He thought she had recovered from that, but wasn't so sure seeing her now. How many jobs had she taken while she had left him alone in his clinic for those four days? He was certain she hadn't looked like that when they had last parted ways.

Periodically, she pushed her escaping hair back from her forehead with a sigh. Had her somber mood been just because of Aveline or was there something else going on? Her gaze seemed to snap back into focus a split second before she scowled down at her left hand. She flexed it slowly with a wince.

"Stop, take the glove off and let me see it." He stopped and waited for her to comply, it would give him a chance to check her for any signs of illness as well.

"It's fine Anders. I just bruised it yesterday and now it's stiff." She started to walk but stopped when neither he nor Bethany followed her. She scowled at both of them, "You are both aware that I already have a mother, right?"

"Enough lip Hawke, let me see the hand." They both knew he didn't need to see it, didn't need to touch it to tell what was wrong and to fix it. But he would all the same and she wouldn't stop him, she never did.

He saw a flash of teeth and could have sworn he heard her growl before she slowly began tugging the glove off. He winced himself seeing the ugly bruising. It was deep purple and ran up half her hand as well as down over two of her fingers. With the glove off he could see how swollen it was, clearly it was broken and she had been fighting like that all day.

Bethany gasped from behind him, "Why didn't you tell me, sis. I could have at least helped with the pain a little if you didn't want to see Anders."

He gently took her hand, careful about where he touched it and let his magic flow through her hand, checking the damage. The break was quite bad, half a dozen bones with hair line fractures and of course the fracturing of the bone at the base of her pinky was quite severe. The last break was all too familiar to Anders who treated men who had been drunk and brawling all too often. She had clearly gotten her little injury from punching someone, no wonder she didn't want to show him.

A wave of irritation flowed over him, irritation that he had upset her enough that she had stayed away from him even in light of this injury, irritation that she had made such a big deal out of him healing Fenris so that he hadn't been with her when it happened. And then she had thought to hide it from him, and had nearly succeeded. She was so damned stubborn.

"And just who was it that pissed you off so much you decked them instead of using your weapons?" He was gratified when she colored slightly.

"Do you really want to know?" She asked quietly.

He really did want to know for a moment, but her somber state all day as well as her placidly taking his admonishment made him reconsider. This quieter Hawke was still throwing him a bit. Maybe he could lighten the situation; he'd had a talent for it once. "Let me guess. A man that was a little too 'hands on'? Some poor random bastard that looked at you wrong when you were deep into your cups? Or maybe he looked at Beth wrong? Oh, a templar? I vote for a templar. Actually, no I don't. Fenris, please tell me it was Fenris. And if it wasn't him don't tell me, I can have beautiful dreams about you decking that whiny little elf."

She had smirked a little at the beginning and by the end he had her giggling. A shiver ran down his spine that had felt good, really good. It'd been a long time since he'd been able to make someone laugh like that. As a bonus, by the time he had finished his little game her hand was completely healed and there were no signs of returning illness. Maker, she was beautiful when she laughed, too bad it did nothing for the dark circles under her eyes. He needed to stop playing games and get her home so she could sleep.

And he needed to figure out what he was going to do about Bethany who was hovering by his elbow giggling with her sister. A year ago things would have been very different. Bethany was young and nubile, showed more skin than her sister and was certainly better endowed. A year ago he might not have given Hawke a second glance and gone straight after her sister. Young, beautiful and impressionable, a young woman who was just starting to learn about her power over men. Her innocence would have been like catnip to him then.

But with Justice had come a conscience. Well, a more developed one than he'd already had. His taste in women had already started to change a bit before that, and he liked to think that he had been more responsible about dalliances at the Keep. He'd actually tried not to break any hearts while he was there, had tried not to take advantage, although sometimes it was hard not to. Vulnerable women were just…they were…they appealed both to the healer and the cad in him.

"Anders?" Hawke was smiling at him as she looked at him a little curiously.

"Hmm? Did I miss something?" He asked mildly, forgetting about his less than gentlemanly past.

"I asked if you were done." She lifted her hand a little and he found he was still holding it.

He released her hand carefully and slowly, not wanting to hurt her again. He shied from her touch too often as it was. He saw Hawke look past him for a minute before dropping her eyes almost guiltily and tugging her glove back on. When he glanced back he saw Bethany standing rigidly, very studiously not looking at him, her face scarlet.

See, a wandering mind is nothing but trouble. Wouldn't she have been surprised to know she had been the subject of that little lapse? "Beth, do yourself a favor and don't get old, it makes you forget too many things." When she looked at him he gave her a close approximation of a smile. Be nice, just not too nice he reminded himself.

She seemed to relax a least a little and he felt a little relieved in return. Hawke, finished with her glove, started out towards Gamlen's place again. Lapsing back into silence though she had a little smile now, something he was way more proud of than he should be. After a few minutes she leaned over a little as they walked, bumping him a little with her shoulder.

"Thanks, Anders." Her voice was just a soft whisper; she obviously didn't want Bethany to hear her.

So, instead of replying he just gave a little nod. Apparently, it was enough to upset the precarious balance with Bethany and she moved closer to him, so close he had to be careful with his arm so as not to brush against her. He could just imagine Hawke's reaction if he let his arm brush against her sister's ample chest. Aren't sisters fun?

The night was beginning to remind him of a circus Rhoswyn had taken him to as a child where he had seen tight rope walkers. They were getting close to Gamlen's though, he could go home and recover, or more likely agonize over all the things he should have done differently. One thing was sure though, he was going to try to avoid being alone with the two sisters in the future.

As they neared the Hanged Man Bethany spoke up a little hesitantly. "Can we stop?"

Hawke gave her an odd look, one he was sure was echoed on his own face as Hawke spoke. "You want to go have a drink?"

"S…sure. And we could say hi to Varric." Bethany stammered, she turned to him, "You've got time for one drink, don't you?"

He took a deep breath, well this certainly wasn't good. Hawke was so clearly tired and things with Bethany had been unsafe to say the least. Maybe she was taking advantage of Hawke's worn state while she wasn't constantly flirting and teasing him. "Actually, Bethany," he paused and looked to Hawke who was grinning at him eyes suddenly bright, obviously fully aware of Bethany's intentions and she had no plans to help him, damn her. "I should get back to the clinic, I have patients in the morning and I need to get to bed."

Hawke raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing his discomfort. "Want some company?" That was Hawke, always helping. At least she was joking with him again, exhausted as she seemed.

He looked to Bethany who looked crestfallen and paused to weigh his options he needed a compromise, something that wouldn't upset Beth too much and wouldn't make Hawke angry either. "One drink, Justice won't allow me to have any more than that. He nags like an old woman, then I really need to go."

Bethany smiled at him and with a quiet sigh he pushed open the door to the tavern holding it open while Bethany and Hawke went inside. He followed them in, already feeling anxious, there was no way he was getting out of there without making things worse, and he knew it. He'd say something stupid and hurt Beth or piss off Hawke, knowing his luck probably both. His head was beginning to ache already.

Hawke and Bethany had both stopped short staring towards the bar. He slipped in behind Hawke and looked over her head to figure out what they were staring at. The tall dark skinned woman in what could hardly be called clothes was obviously what had caught their attention, had caught the entire bar's attention in fact. She calmly threw back a drink as three men were surrounding her, hassling her. Seeing her outnumbered he had been sure Hawke would step in but she just stayed where she was and watched.

"Hawke, don't you think we should lend the woman a hand?" He asked quietly, not sure why he was looking for more trouble. Though, maybe getting involved in the altercation would give him a way to get out of his agreement to share a drink with the Hawke sisters.

"She doesn't need help." She took a few steps forward but only so she could get a better look.

"Are you sur…" he didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before the woman was bouncing one of the men's head off the bar.

A fight quickly broke out and was over nearly as quickly as it started. The three men limped out of the bar holding each other up as the woman tossed back her drink with a laugh. He'd figured that was that, although he was curious how Hawke had known the woman wouldn't need any help. But of course, Hawke being Hawke, she walked right up to the woman.

"Buy you a drink?" Her voice was a little huskier than usual and he felt a little tingle down the back of his neck.

The dark skinned woman glanced at Hawke, "Thanks".

Hawke waived the bartender over and ordered drinks for all of them. He watched as Hawke glanced over the woman's shoulder. "Those blades are beautiful. I can't remember the last time I saw any so sharp."

In response the woman grinned and did a little bow, "I'm Isabela."

Anders was waiting for her to fall out of her dress…tunic? He wasn't sure, but it was very revealing. And her clearly long legs were encased in boots that stopped at mid thigh. And were those her smalls he spotted through the slit in the side of her outfit? The woman screamed sex and trouble. Weren't they already at their quota for women who were trouble?

Isabela stood back up straight and flashed a smile that said she knew exactly what effect she had on all the men in the tavern and liked it. She and Hawke grabbed the drinks when they came and Isabela led them to a table. He sat down hoping to finish his drink quickly then disappear.

Isabela took a long pull on her own drink then gave a little sigh. "I used to be Captain Isabela, but…well I no longer have a ship or a crew." She looked Hawke over then continued with both him and Bethany. "You know, you might be just the help I was looking for."

Hawke chuckled, "I buy you a drink and now you want help too?"

Isabela laughed and it was a low sensuous sound. "I can make it worth your while, if you'd like." And if that wasn't completely laden with innuendo…the woman could give Hawke a run for her money.

"And why do you want my help, you don't even know me." But she was grinning and Anders knew the night was far from over.

"You're Ferelden, I can tell, you have that look about you. Fereldens tend to be more honest than other folks." She smiled again, "You know, I actually know the Hero of Ferelden. And by know…well you get the picture."

"Bull shit," he cut in. There was no way this woman had been with Sareyna. She'd been with Alistair during the Blight she wouldn't have… His stomach did a little flip as he remembered a conversation from a night that seemed eons ago now when he and Alistair had discussed having a threesome with a pirate woman.

Isabela shrugged, "Believe what you want, but I can tell you about this wicked looking scar she has…"

"Enough," he snapped, she didn't need to be talking about Sareyna's body like it was public knowledge.

"Woah, calm down big guy." She was giving him an odd look.

"Anders, are you alright?" Hawke looked worried.

"Yeah, the woman's a national hero and deserves a little respect." He calmed himself, the pirate woman was harmless.

"Anyway, to get back to my original point, I need a hand with a duel I set up. I'm pretty sure the guy's not going to play fair and it would be nice to have someone watch my back." She was a little more somber now, and seemed a little wary of him.

"Oh, I can definitely watch your back for you." Her eyes never left the former pirate.

And was he just imagining it or was Hawke flirting with this woman? Was there anyone she wouldn't flirt with? Could Hawke actually be interested in women? He dropped that thought quickly knowing if he didn't he'd be having more sleepless nights, with all new fantasies. Hawke's alabaster skin against Isabela's café au lait anyone?

So, a drink with the white haired, sad eyed vixen and her smitten sister turned into a bloody battle in the Chantry in the dead of night. Isabela had been right. Her opponent, a man named Hayder, had sent mercenaries to kill her instead of meeting her for the duel. After killing the mercenaries they headed to the Chantry where Hayder was hiding like a coward. Apparently, in Kirkwall there was no honor, even among thieves.

So they broke into the Chantry in the middle of the night, again. Hayder was an arrogant bastard that Isabela decided to shut up quickly. Using one of the wicked blades that Hawke had admired she threw it across the room and it embedded deep into the chest of the woman beside Hayder. Had she missed or had she really meant to hit the woman. Personally, he would have taken Hayder out first, less fuss that way.

He didn't have a whole lot of time to contemplate it as they were dragged into another fight. There were far more people hiding in the shadows of the Chantry than he had thought possible and the battle was long and hard won. The four of them stood there catching their breaths, Hawke giggling like mad, she always loved a good fight.

"Well, that was fun. I'd say a little warning would have been nice but I'm notoriously bad at it myself." She wiped her hands on her armor leaving dark wet smears on the black leather. "You should go get that dagger, be a shame to forget it."

Isabela pulled her dagger from the woman's chest glaring at her. "Traitorous bitch." She spit at the corpse.

Hawke looked at the pirate woman curiously, brow raised in query. "I take it you know her?"

She snorted, "Take it from me sugar, if you ever have a ship of your own don't let any other women on it."

"I'll remember that, now maybe you could let me know exactly what I dragged myself into?" Sharp as her name she watched Isabela lean casually back against a pillar.

"Long version or short?" She still held her dagger in her hand, running her fingers along the grooves in the hilt. She wanted to appear casual but she was actually a bit nervous if he was any judge.

"Am I going to miss something important if I take the short version?" Good girl calling her on it like that.

Isabela sighed deeply and re-sheathed her dagger. "No, not really."

"Well, get on with it then. Some of us would like to see a bed tonight." She made a long slow perusal of Isabela gaze noticeably lingering on her bare thighs and then the dark creamy curves of the woman's breasts. There was the Hawke he knew…kind of.

Isabela gave her a fake pout, "You wouldn't tease a girl would you, Ferelden?"

Hawke just gave her a sexy little smile.

"Alright, I was hired to escort a cargo ship. I got a bad feeling, checked out the cargo ship and found it full of slaves. So, I freed them. The man that hired me sent me after a relic to repay him for freeing his slaves. I got the relic, got caught in a storm lost my boat and barely made it to shore. So now I'm being hunted." She gave Hawke a little smile, "Brief enough?"

"Who's hunting you?" Gone was the relaxed teasing Hawke, instead she was on high alert.

The pirate rubbed her head, clearly not wanting to share anymore. "His name is Castillon, a…well he calls himself a merchant...he has his fingers in a lot of profitable if not completely legal pots. And I think he has ties to the Felicisima Armada." She gave a little shrug at the end like it was no big deal.

He couldn't keep his silence anymore. "Are you saying you dragged us into a mess with an Antivan crime lord?"

Isabela gave him a cheeky smile, "Yes, I suppose you could say it that way."

He turned to Hawke looking for a little support, "She's going to get us all killed."

Hawke chuckled, "Are you trying to tell me she's dangerous, Anders? Seriously, you?"

He didn't have a response to that; he was dangerous as was Fenris and even Merrill with her blood magic. There was no way he was winning this argument. He just nodded and took a few steps away trying to clear his head.

Had he thought his life was complicated before? Every day he spent following Hawke he found himself pulled deeper and deeper into the insanity of Kirkwall. Although, today he had learned something new and _very_ interesting about Hawke. After the pirate thanked Hawke for her help, Isabela invited Hawke back to her room at the Hanged Man.

Hawke had looked the woman over with a hungry look and smiled but didn't respond. Turned out he might not be the only item on the elder Hawke's menu. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that, but he couldn't deny the pirate was good looking and a woman who lusted after other women was always exciting.

With her dark skin, her dark hair and dark eyes Isabela was exotic enough. And there were those inappropriate thoughts again, snow white hair against honey colored skin. Focus on something else, like the heavy ornate choker around her throat of an almost gaudy gold. It matched her earrings and even the small labret stud she had, as well as the handles of her daggers. His first assessment had been right; this woman was going to be trouble, she practically reeked of it, trouble and cheap whiskey.

He walked with the three women back to Lowtown. Obviously, having just watched them obliterate a whole Chantry full of thugs he knew they could take care of themselves. But it didn't feel right just leaving them to walk back alone, so he found himself walking the women back to Lowtown yet again. Apparently, among other things, Justice had made him a bit of a gentleman.

Right, the gentleman who occasionally glows blue and burns people to ash.

Bethany made no comment about stopping for drinks at the Hanged Man when Isabela said her good nights. She looked distinctly uncomfortable as the pirate tried once more to convince Hawke to join her. Hawke gave her a smile that Anders felt all the way to the base of his spine, begging off due to fatigue and promised to think about it once she was rested.

Once they reached Gamlen's house Bethany went straight inside. He and Hawke just stared after her for a minute before taking a few steps herself. She paused for a moment and seemed about to say something but then stopped and started heading up the stairs slowly, the fatigue clearly dragging at her again.

"Hawke?" he wasn't sure what possessed him, ha ha, to call her back.

She stopped and turned back to face him and for a moment Anders thought he saw her looking a little lost and sad, but it was gone in a flash, replaced with her customary little smirk. "Yes, handsome?"

He grasped for something to say, why had he called her back? Hadn't today been exhausting enough without getting into a deeper tangle with Hawke? Then he remembered Bethany's earlier invitation. "Your sister…"

Hawke's face contorted and she glared at him, "You touch her and I'll kill you myself."

He put his hands up in supplication. "I was just going to ask if you could talk to her. Convince her I'm too dangerous, too old, something. I'm not interested, but she's young, I don't want to hurt her."

Hawke relaxed a little but still looked uneasy and very tired, "Yeah, alright."

He took a breath, not sure what to say, but he was worried about her. So the first thing that came to his mind of course was Fenris, whom he knew would be going with Hawke tomorrow. "Be careful with Fenris, he's dangerous."

"And gorgeous," she quipped, barely a pause.

He winced and Sekhmet chuckled quietly.

"Aw, come on Anders, I've seen you looking at him. You were thinking the same thing I was. Wouldn't it be fun to gag him, tie him down and lick those pretty tattoos?" Her eyes had become over bright again, their crystalline blue nearly glowing in the dim light of Lowtown.

Now there was an image that would be keeping him up tonight. Fenris tied down, helpless, gagged so they didn't need to listen to him complaining about mages while he stroked his fingers over the bound man, it had been driving him crazy wondering if those lines would feel raised or not, and Hawke hovered over the dark skinned elf licking those lyrium tattoos wearing…He shook his head, no, no, no, no, he was not going to imagine that at all he was just going to push all of those thoughts right out of his head.

He'd hoped that with time his need for sex would wane, but it didn't he just felt aroused and frustrated more often. His mind slipped into elaborate fantasies at the drop of a hat. He was losing his mind and Justice couldn't seem to understand that he was a sensual, a sexual creature and needed contact.

So with his skin feeling hot, his heart galloping away in his chest and his imagination tugging at him he wasn't able to form a response right away.

And she of course noticed, "I don't mind sharing." She smirked.

He shook his head again, trying to concentrate on his original point not on the leather moulded so perfectly over her surprisingly wide hips. "The man's dangerous, Hawke."

Her smile faltered a little before it slid back in place, "He's easy enough to control." A quiet confidence behind her words.

Was that what she did to him? Did she use her sexuality to get him to do what she wanted? He hadn't thought about that possibility. "Like you control me?"

Pain flashed on her face again for an instant then was gone, leaving her face carefully blank. "You don't really think I do that to you, do you?"

Now that he was thinking about he was pretty sure she didn't do that to him. She may tease him but she always seemed to listen to him. And the pain he had seen flash across her features seemed to confirm it. "No, I suppose I don't." Justice always made it so hard to lie, even though it would have been easier.

She swallowed, suddenly looking much younger and he wondered again briefly how old she actually was. Stepping close to him she rested her hand on his arm, the light touch speeding up the wild beating of his heart. What was she doing? Why was she touching him? She needed to stop. It wasn't enough.

But she was just staring at where her hand rested on the fabric. "I don't know why, but I feel like I know you." He noticed her lower lip trembling a little before she looked up speaking again. "Don't you feel it?"

Dammit, what the Void was she doing? What was he doing, this was a very, very bad idea. But he found himself responding honestly again anyways. "I do." There was something about her, something he needed that called to him, that felt familiar.

She moved closer and his heart picked up speed again. When he thought she was going to kiss him he tensed, but she just laid her head on his chest for a moment. It took a conscious effort for him to keep his hands at his sides instead of pulling her against him completely.

That moment, when she had moved closer to him, seeking something he just couldn't give her, she looked so lost, so tired and so sad a huge part of him just wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He knew what it was like to be in her place, to feel those things. Almost nightly he nearly drowned in those very same emotions. His whole life he had fought against them, had felt the crippling loneliness dealing with those emotions could cause. He had no answers for her though, and he knew if he got too close to her he would just hurt her.

He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides to keep from touching her, but he couldn't bring himself to move away from her. He liked the feel of her leaning on him, _"and," _he reasoned to himself, _"she seems to need it."_ What he didn't, couldn't admit to himself was that he needed it too, a little life line in the dark and murky waters that had become his life.

"Goodnight Anders." her voice was barely a whisper.

"Night Sekhmet." He was just as quiet, every cell in his body begging her to put her arms around him. _"Just hold me, I'll hold you back, I promise."_ Just wishful thinking, needs that could never be voiced, never be met.

It was like a peak through a door you were forbidden from entering. A brief glimpse of the light and warmth inside, but knowing you could never bask in that light could never let the chill go, chased away by the comfortable warmth in that forbidden room. So close to ecstasy, so much closer to torture. He felt a brief rush of something through him, a loosening of something, an easement.

He was confused by the feeling but brushed it aside, enjoying the feel of her head on his chest. Images again, her curled up with him in bed, head resting on his chest. His arm draped lightly around her, holding her close. Not sexual, just comforting and relaxing. Another glimpse behind the forbidden door.

Her hand slid up his arm a bit and she nuzzled against his chest shifting herself closer to him. "Anders?"

They jerked apart when they heard the door slam.

"Shit." Hawke whirled away and ran up the steps.

He felt the loss of her weight against his chest almost like pain. Fists clenched tight, he turned and walked back to Darktown. He resolved to make himself scarce for a few days and forget everything that had just happened and not to call her Sekhmet again, it was too close, too intimate for some reason.


	10. Chapter 10

**Slavers In The Basement**

Sekhmet stood in front of the door to Anders' clinic, her hand was raised but she hadn't knocked yet. It was harder than she imagined facing him again. Everytime she had looked for him to talk or to do a job for the last week he was oddly missing and it had really shaken her confidence which was a whole new experience for her when it came to men.

She took a deep breath steeling herself, just the thought of being near him again was giving her the feeling that she was being swept away. His voice struck something deep inside of her, it fluttered and vibrated in her solar plexus, his warm honey brown eyes entranced her, the smell of cool mountain lake that somehow clung to his skin even in Darktown's stench took her breath away. She needed to get out of her head and get on with it already.

"Are you going to knock or just stand there and fantasize about him all day?" The words were meant to be teasing she knew but, there was just the slightest touch of bitterness in her sister's voice.

Sekhmet nodded, "Sorry," she knocked sharply on the door since the lanterns weren't lit, trying to rein in the butterflies that were still circling in her stomach.

There was no response, he wasn't going to avoid her again was he? Varric had sent the message to Anders because she had been afraid he wouldn't read it. Hoping that he wouldn't leave them in the lurch she turned to look at Varric and Bethany giving them a shrug.

Poor Varric looked like he was literally sleeping on his feet. She felt bad about dragging him out of bed but hoped that by going so early most of the slavers would be asleep. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could slip in and out undetected. And her sweet sister Bethany looked incredibly bored verging on annoyance.

She couldn't blame her sister, the two of them had barely spoken in the last week, ever since Bethany had caught her and Anders doing...whatever it was. In fact Beth hadn't said anything to her until this morning. On their way to The Hanged Man to get Varric she had stopped, taking Sekhmet's arm to stop her as well.

Silence stretched between them for long minutes, she had no idea what to say to Bethany. She wasn't exactly sorry and it didn't even matter Anders had run away again, had hidden himself away from her. But he had been right about Bethany, she needed to get over this crush she had on him. She felt tension coiling in her temples a headache winding up, one that would likely lay her out for at least a day.

Bethany caught her rubbing her temples, she held her hands up and a pale lavender magic coiled loose sinking into her temples. She sighed audibly with relief, Bethany was pushing the pain away and in just a few seconds was gone completely.

"Wow, you're healing is really improving, won't be long before we don't need Anders at all." It was meant teasingly but Bethany tensed beside her.

Her sister looked into her eyes for a few seconds before she spoke. "Do you really care for him Sekhmet or is he just…is he…" she didn't finish but she didn't have to her blush said it all.

"I honestly don't know, Bethany. Sometimes it feels like I'm just attracted to him but sometimes I feel like there's more, a lot more." It was true, she didn't know what that more was but wanted to figure it out.

Beth's face clouded over but she remained calm when she spoke, "Do you think you could ever love him?"

She'd already asked herself a few times. "I don't know that love is something I will ever experience, but of all the people I've known in my life he's the only one I've considered the possibility with before."

Her sister faced away from her, hiding her face. "You won't hurt him?"

"I can't promise that, no one can." Maybe Beth had more than just a crush on Anders after all.

"Then promise you won't let him feel all alone again. Show him it doesn't need to be just him against the entire world." Her voice was a little strained.

"I'll do my best, but I can't force myself on him. He doesn't seem to want anything like that from me." Was that her voice thick with emotion?

Bethany turned back to look at her finally. "He does want it, he's just afraid."

She wished it were true, so much of her wanted to believe that he felt something for her, something more than just an attraction. The idea of falling in love didn't seem quite so laughable as it had in the past. But she was getting ahead of herself; the man couldn't even bear a friendly touch from her. They were oceans and oceans away from anything that might resemble even affection. "I don't know how to help him with that."

Bethany giggled, "I know, you've never been afraid of anything in your whole life."

She grinned back, "Hard to be afraid when you don't have any sense."

Her sister sighed, "I can't promise not to ever get jealous, but I'm as done as I can be with my little infatuation. Anders isn't the man for me."

Her smile faltered and fell, "Are you sure? I don't want you doing this for me. You deserve to be happy more than any of us."

Bethany nodded, "He's not interested in me. Barely knows I'm around half the time and I don't want a man I have to hit over the head with a club to get him to notice me."

"He pays plenty of attention to you, sis. You guys talk all the time." The two of them could talk for hours while they hiked between jobs.

Bethany snorted, "He had plenty to say to mages, not me. I just happen to be a mage. I could be horse for all he cares."

So, her morning had started off fairly well. Standing in front of Anders' door, she hoped it wasn't about to fall apart again. So, she turned back to the door and knocked again a bit louder this time. And again there was nothing but silence for several minutes.

It seemed to take forever before she heard footsteps heading towards the door. She felt her stomach do a little flip when he finally opened the door wearing a long tunic laced tightly all the way to his neck and what looked to be woolen trousers. His feet were donned with very worn looking leather slippers.

He looked like he hadn't slept; his hair was down, one side tucked haphazardly behind his ear. His eyes scanned over them quickly, roving back and forth a little too rapidly. She wondered if he had been drinking too much coffee or something.

At length he waived them inside. "I'll be just a few minutes. I didn't realize it was time already. I apologize." His hand scrubbed across his stubble, "Do I have time to shave quickly?"

Bethany giggled, "Well we certainly don't want you to look anything less than your best for the slavers."

Anders' eyes flicked over to Sekhmet briefly and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Was he worried about how he looked on her behalf? After another moment he nodded to Bethany, "I suppose it can wait until later." Then disappeared through a door at the back of the clinic.

She wandered around the clinic taking in the different herbs that Anders had on hand. She was surprised he didn't have a larger variety. She turned to Bethany, "Shouldn't there be more herbs for salves and stuff in a clinic?"

Bethany nodded, "Yes, if this was an ordinary clinic, but Anders is a healer, a mage healer. He doesn't need all those other things."

She nodded, "I suppose, but he shouldn't waste his mana on small things when he has so many patients. Every time I've come down here during the day he's swamped. The Fereldens down here are always sick or getting hurt. And you know how he is; he won't stop until everyone is healed, no matter what it costs him." She shook her head, "No wonder he's so damned skinny, he doesn't even have time to eat."

Bethany shrugged noncommittally, "Maybe you should help him."

Sekhmet paused, her hand putting the top back on a canister of elfroot. Maybe she should, it would let her be around him without him feeling like she was trying to seduce him. And maybe he would relax for a bit and not treat her like he was afraid of her. It might be nice and it had been a while since she had any use for the herb lore that her father had taught her.

She looked back at Bethany, "Want to help?"

She scoffed, "What and come between the two of you? I know better, thank you."

"Thank you for what?" Anders had just walked through the door and was looking at Bethany curiously.

Her eyes darted to Sekhmet then back, "I was just thanking her for going to the estate for me and mother."

He nodded, "Shall we go then?" He gestured towards the door.

Sekhmet headed towards it quickly, something was different about Anders today he seemed agitated, restless. Perhaps he was just overtired or maybe he wanted to get back so he could open his clinic. She gave him a little smile, "This should be pretty quick and easy."

Varric chuckled behind her, "Right, because you're so good at quick and easy."

She turned and smiled at him, "Well maybe not the easy part…"

He smiled back as did Bethany. And though Anders didn't exactly smile, there was a lightening in his eyes, something that looked almost like amusement. She slipped the key from her pocket and Varric groaned.

"A key Hawke? How can you live with yourself, that's too easy." His eyes twinkled with mischief.

She chuckled, the dwarf definitely kept her on her toes, "Alright," she slipped the key back into her armor and slid a couple of picks from her sleeve. "It'll just be a moment."

"Is this really necessary, you two are getting a little overzealous with your refusal to use keys. I thought we wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible?" Bethany rolled her eyes.

The lock clicked and she eased it open, "There all done." She shot Bethany a look, "And it barely took longer than a key."

"Yes, yes, we're all duly impressed. Now let's get going." Bethany pushed her forward as she got to her feet.

"Yes, mother." She laughed out loud but moved into the hallway nonetheless.

* * *

Anders was tired, his eyes were bleary, he hadn't slept the night before; as a matter of fact he hadn't slept in days. And though it was for several reasons the main reason was walking in front of him, the swell of her hips and the tight roundness of her ass encased in that tight black leather.

He shook his head; surely there were better places for his eyes to settle or at least safer places. He had been trying since he had met her to tell himself there was nothing between them besides a physical attraction. But the last night he had seen her had destroyed his ability to believe or even pretend to believe that anymore.

All week he had been trying to wrap his head around it. Just the actions of what had happened were so minor, a touch on his arm and her head resting on his chest, nothing else. It sounded so insignificant, so innocent but it had changed everything. Over and over he played it in his head trying to figure out when it had happened, what exactly had been the tipping point but could find none.

One moment she had been the lithe woman covered in tight black leather. The one he spent much too much time wondering if _all_ her hair was white and the next moment he had been fantasizing about holding her and taking care of her. He was a healer, and worried about her health of course but that was far from his mind at the time. He had wanted a life with her.

The worst part was that he liked her, genuinely liked her. She was funny, a smart mouth response always at hand. The girl had a ridiculous fondness for puns and one she especially liked could make her dissolve into a puddle of giggles. He was getting so he loved the sound of her laughter, it tickled something inside of him; something that Justice thought was best forgotten. And that was where he intended on leaving it.

He'd mused a few times before that he might have had something with her if circumstances had been different but stopped himself from dwelling on it. It wasn't like not being able to have that type of relationship was new to him. As a mage he had known that love and marriage weren't in the cards for him. Justice just made him more acutely aware of why he couldn't afford to…to…love someone.

So, he'd avoided her trying to find a way to change things back to the way they had been before. He'd tried to find a way that the two of them would remain simply two people that sometimes worked together. But that carefully constructed lie crumbled into dust, coating everything in its wake.

All he had managed to do was highlight how much he missed her when they were apart. Feeling her against his chest the other night had unraveled everything; they were never just two people who worked together. A part of him was convinced he had known that even the first time he met her. He cared for her already and enjoyed her company; he enjoyed not having to act for her.

She hadn't flinched at seeing Justice, hadn't even been upset when he had explained what had happened to Justice when they merged. He could be a man, a mage and possessed with her, he didn't need to hide. As surly as he got about her overt flirting and teasing him he enjoyed it, it made him feel some semblance of normalcy.

Perhaps she, more than anyone, highlighted to him how far he had been straying from his humanity. He'd cut all ties when he left Ferelden and hadn't bothered to make new ones in Kirkwall. He healed his patients but he didn't feel connected to them, not like he once had. Justice had dulled the emotional effects of his healing ability because he found it distracting.

Sekhmet had become a tether for him, a tie to the man inside the possessed mage.

* * *

The basement rang with the sounds of the slavers screaming as they burned. Bethany unfurled her power, her anger; it felt good to let it all go once in a while. She had enough of keeping her emotions in check, keeping a smile on her face. These men deserved to die for their own crimes and it was just their bad luck that she was angry at Gamlen as well.

She was usually so nice and sweet and she knew that was how everyone saw her. But she was strong, she had to be; an apostate's life was a hard one. But when she saw the family crest mounted on the wall she couldn't help the rush of childlike excitement that swept over her, the Amell crest, right there in front of her in living color.

"Wow, that's the family crest. Mother described it but it's amazing to see it." She fell silent and traced one of the red lines with a finger. Turning back to Sekhmet she spoke softly feeling awed. "I wonder what it would have been like growing up here or if Gamlen hadn't lost the estate."

She tried to picture it, growing up in one place, never having to run. "Can you imagine living here with this crest above the door?" Maybe she could have been proud, protected by her family instead of forcing them to move again and again to save her from the Templars. "It's not right Sekhmet. Why can't anything be easy? I feel like everything in our lives is a struggle. Are we cursed?"

Sekhmet pulled Bethany against her and held her in a tight hug. Anders and Varric silently eased from the room giving the two of them some privacy. Her older sister rubbed her back soothingly and kissed her temple. "Don't worry so much Beth, I'll take care of everything. I'll always be there for you. And I'll fix this; I promise I'll fix this. This will be the Hawke estate one day."

And she would, Sekhmet would sacrifice anything and anyone to make her happy. She had been doing it since Carver had died, like she had to be the big sister and take Carver's place as well. Bethany pulled away and brushed a tear from her cheek. She gave Sekhmet a small smile, "You can't spend your life trying to keep me happy. You need to make a life for yourself."

Sekhmet was quiet for a minute as if she were looking for the words, but when she did speak the words were clear and strong, spoken with a fierce conviction. "You're my family, you are my life."

Beth sighed, she loved Sekhmet and of course didn't want to lose her but Sekhmet was way past the age where she should be living her own life. She had started once, but had come back, ever the dutiful daughter, to protect her family when she caught wind of the Blight.

It wasn't that Bethany wasn't grateful; it was just that she could see her sister becoming obsessive. Sekhmet never wanted Bethany out of her sight and if a Templar even looked at her wrong they were sure to disappear and never be heard of again. Sekhmet didn't like Templars at the best of times; it was probably why she got along so well with Anders.

Maybe Sekhmet could find something, some kind of life with him. She saw how they looked at each other. She knew there was already something more between them than attraction even if neither of them were willing to admit it yet. Sekhmet thought that there might be a chance for something more, saw something in him she had never seen in anyone before. And their golden haired mage wasn't even willing to admit that there was an attraction between them.

But she knew what she had seen that night after they had met Isabela. It was a strong feeling, so raw and powerful that it had shocked Bethany at first. And she had been hurt; she had desires of her own where Anders was concerned. In light of that night, of the pull between Anders and her sister she felt silly. In caparison her feelings were minor, fleeting. She knew Sekhmet needed him and that whether he admitted it or not he needed Sekhmet. And she would find a way to push them together.

In the meantime there was no point in arguing with Sekhmet so she put a smile on, "Let's go find the vault and find Grandfather's will."

Her sister smiled back and the two of them headed for the door. Anders and Varric were standing not too far away. Anders' eyes skimmed right by her to land on her sister the slightest curl touching his lips before it was gone. It hurt a little that he barely noticed her, but reinforced her belief that he belonged with Sekhmet.

He put his finger to his lips wanting them to be silent then motioned them over. As they approached they could hear footsteps in the next room, quite a few of them. Why hadn't they come after the four of them? With as much noise as they had made there was no way the slavers wouldn't have heard them.

"Varric says he thinks he can see a trap in there. A big one, they haven't seen us but obviously know we're coming. I'll go in first and freeze them. Hawke, you should follow me in and start disarming the trap, I'll keep a shield around you so you can work. Bethany and Varric will come in directly after you and start taking out the slavers." He glanced into the room again, eyes sharp and focused.

A mage with battle strategies? The man just kept surprising her, no wonder he talked more with her sister. Sekhmet was the one who had a head for things like that. Bethany was more the 'let's just burn it all to the ground' sort. And the stubble looked good on him. Just because she was going to get him and her sister together didn't mean she couldn't look.

Her thoughts were put on hold when she watched ice slick up over Anders' fingers in an instant. He flashed her sister a mischievous smile, placed his back against the wall next to the door before turning quickly through it with the spell shooting out from his fingers. How had she missed how much he liked fighting? He'd looked down right excited as he went through the door. Maybe she'd been idolizing him just a bit because he was a healer and she had always wanted to be one.

Sekhmet stepped through behind him, "Nice work, they look like a bunch of ice statues."

Varric stepped in ahead of Bethany, Bianca already shooting bolts. Bethany stepped in, surveyed the room and started with a crushing prison spell as her sister and Anders kept talking like they were walking in a garden instead of in danger of the slavers breaking free at any moment.

"I try, ice isn't my favorite, but it's a close second." He was standing beside Sekhmet who was crouching on the ground working on a pressure plate that seemed to run the length of the room. Sapphire magic swirled around both of them as she worked.

"I'm guessing lightning is your favorite since you use it even in your sleep." Her voice was light even though she was scowling at the trap she was working on.

"Yes, well lightning has so _very many_ uses." His voice had dropped a little.

Bethany turned to look at him, curious about his stressing both those words. She rolled her eyes when she saw Sekhmet smirking up at him and him flashing her that smile that made her sister melt. When they just kept looking at each other for a few moments too long she cleared her throat trying to get Sekhmet to focus on the trap.

Not that she wanted to interrupt. In fact, she was quite pleased Anders seemed to be flirting with her sister. It would make getting the two of them together that much easier if he could at least admit he was attracted to Sekhmet.

"Anders, I need a hand." Her sister was still looking under the pressure plate which made Bethany nervous, usually Sekhmet would have had it disarmed in moments.

He knelt beside her, "What can I do?"

She responded without looking up. "I need some light and need you to pull up on the pressure plate and hold it. I don't want it smacking down on my fingers and breaking them while I'm disarming it."

All the slavers were dead so Bethany and Varric wandered over to where Anders was now kneeling next to Sekhmet holding the plate while a wisp danced slow circles near Sekhmet's head. Varric crouched down to take a look at what Sekhmet was working on.

He chuckled then stood up, "Don't worry Sunshine. It's not anything Hawke can't handle. She's just having trouble getting it apart because the thing is rusted. I'm not even sure it would have gone off if we all stepped on it."

"I'm not taking any chances, especially with shoddy craftsmanship like this. I hope whoever put this together was killed by one of his own shitty traps." Hawke grunted a little and there was a scraping noise followed by a loud click and then she pushed away from it. "Ok, you can drop it now Anders."

He released the plate which fell with a dull thud. "So where now?"

Bethany pointed towards a short set of stairs at the far side of the room, "Looks like the only place to go is up." As they started on the stairs she couldn't stop a smile, the damp of the basement was disappearing. "I think this must be the vault."

Anders let out a short noise of surprise, "Uh, Hawke, why is there an ogre skull over the door to your family's vault?"

Sekhmet furrowed her brow, "How the Void should I know? Maybe the slavers liked the way it looked, or maybe my family put it there to discourage looters. Who knows, maybe the Amells hunted Darkspawn in their spare time like Orlesians hunt fox."

They all laughed at that one, even Anders chuckled a little. Her sister had the door open in just a few moments and they were standing in the vault room of the Amell estate. It was exhilarating, the things in here belonged to her family, to her mother's parents.

They all chipped in sorting through things looking for the will, choosing to take a few other things back to Gamlen's with them. They could either use them, or with mother's blessing sell them. As she was going through a box of small silver items like candlesticks she heard a thud followed by Sekhmet's voice.

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm going to kill that thieving bastard." Sekhmet's face was red and her jaw was tight, Bethany couldn't remember the last time she had seen her sister so mad. She held out the sheaf of parchment to Bethany. "Gamlen stole mother's money. Grandfather left it all to mother and to us. Son of a bitch stole it and squandered it all away, thinking he could get away with it. No wonder he didn't want to talk about it."

Bethany felt like she was going to vomit. They had basically been slaves for a year, were currently living penniless in Lowtown fearing the Templars everyday because Gamlen had stolen mother's money? Had lost an estate that wasn't his? "No," she looked through the papers then tossed them on the floor, furious. She kicked the wall and let out a scream of anger and frustration. "Still think we aren't cursed?" It was too much; she might have been safe in Kirkwall if her uncle wasn't such a greedy bastard. She wanted to scream and shout and roast him to cinders, but that wouldn't solve anything. She moved into one of the side rooms in the basement and started letting off small controlled blasts of flame trying to calm down at least a little.

* * *

Anders watched Bethany leave and gestured for Varric to follow her. He didn't want to give the girl any reason to cling to her little crush. Sekhmet sat on the floor her mouth opened slightly, her face contorted in what looked a lot like anger and a lot like betrayal. Maybe he should leave her to handle her emotions in private but he couldn't bring himself to leave her there looking like that.

He sat down beside her as Varric left the room, going after Bethany. "Are you alright?"

She was still staring at the papers but at the sound of his voice looked up, the anger and betrayal slipped away leaving her just looking completely overwhelmed. "I thought, I don't know, that Grandfather had left mother something like some kind of heirloom." She glanced at the papers then back into his eyes, "He left her everything, the money, the estate, all of it. It was hers and Gamlen just…not only did he steal it but he lost it all too. With all the assets listed here it looks like the estate was still solvent when Grandfather passed. Maybe Bethany's right, maybe we are cursed."

He wanted to reach out to put his arm around her but Justice's thoughts were already angry that Anders had gone with her in the first place so he sat still keeping his hands to himself. "You don't really believe that."

"Don't I? After…" she closed her eyes, "there are things about my life you don't know."

"So tell me." The words had left his mouth before he'd thought about them. He shouldn't have said that, it could lead to all sorts of unpleasant things if she expected him to reciprocate. His stomach suddenly felt like there was a stone sitting in it.

She opened her eyes and watched him for a few beats before speaking. "You first."

He glanced away from her eyes, feeling the weight of his past deeds, past crimes hanging on him. He told himself he wasn't an abomination, told himself Justice wasn't a demon. But only a monster could have done the things he had done. And it would kill him to have her look at him with disgust, with fear like everyone else did. He could never be completely honest with her, another reminder why they could never be. "I can't…I just can't."

"It's alright, I understand. Let's make a deal." She didn't sound even the slightest bit angry.

He chanced looking into her eyes again and was surprised to actually find she looked almost hopeful. "What kind of deal?"

"If I ask you something about the past and you don't want to tell me or vice versa we just say 'it's in the past' and that's it. No more questions, we just agree to leave it alone." She flashed him a smile.

"That sounds good to me." And it did, he wouldn't feel obligated to tell her anything he didn't want to because there were things she wasn't willing to talk about either. "Yes, I like that idea."

"Good," she stood and straightened out the pages of the will. "We should get going, I'm sure they're wondering what's taking so long."

He stood beside her; he'd been planning on ignoring the past week altogether but the longer he was with her today the more he needed to apologize. He'd left her in the lurch because of his own issues, he was just lucky she, or anyone she travelled with, weren't hurt badly. "Hawke, about this week…"

She spoke quickly, raising her voice a little to talk over him. "Forget about it, you were busy. It happens."

He wasn't sure what to make of that exactly. When had he become so bad at reading women? It hadn't been that damn long. He followed her out of the vault resigning himself to not figuring it out, she didn't want to talk about it and after their morning excursion he couldn't blame her.

* * *

Talking with Anders had calmed her down a bit, she'd even managed to give him a smile when he headed off to open his clinic for the day. As they approached Gamlen's her blood began to boil again. Bethany seemed to feel much the same; she walked beside her with her fists clenched.

Sekhmet jogged up the steps ready to confront Gamlen. As soon as she was in the house she heard Gamlen trying to tell her mother that they needed to start paying him. With red creeping into her vision and her teeth set on edge she grabbed a knife for her belt and crossed the room to him.

"How dare you, you thieving bastard. I'll see you dead before you see one damn copper." Hands closed around her wrist surprising her.

"Sekhmet stop, he's been good enough to let us live here." It was her mother, voice softly admonishing.

"No mother, it's because of him that we're in this mess." She turned to see him quietly heading for the door. She threw the knife in her hand embedding it in the wall a few inches in front of Gamlen's face. She wanted to make sure he was alive to apologize to her mother.

Everyone was silent, especially her uncle who had turned an ashy color. Her sister broke the silence walking to their mother and handing her the pages of grandfather's will. She flipped through the pages and pointed out the important lines.

"See, he stole from you, mother. Stole your home, your money and squandered it. Obviously, not even your father trusted him, clearly with good reason." She walked towards her uncle again, her anger like acid in her veins, she really wanted him dead. He had put both her life and Bethany's in danger by making them become criminals just to get into the city. He had endangered Bethany's freedom, possibly even her life, by losing money that wasn't his that could have protected Bethany. It was a disgrace even to Carver's death. Carver hadn't died so they could reach Kirkwall and live in squalor worse than anything they had experienced before.

His greed and stupidity had damaged so much, had ruined so many lives and on top of it all he lied again and again breaking her mother's heart with tales about how her grandparents had never forgiven her for choosing to be with the man she loved. She had been listening to her mother cry herself to sleep for over a year because of this…slug. Surely something that deplorable couldn't be called a man. It had been a long time since she had felt anger this raw, rage so all consuming all she could think about was making him pay, making him suffer. "And you're going to pay her back every copper if it takes you three lifetimes."

"The Void I am! You ungrateful," the sentence ended with a croak as Sekhmet wrapped her hands around his throat. She was small but fighting everyday made her strong enough to overpower her alcohol sodden uncle.

"Ungrateful? If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have needed to become indentured servants to return to the city of my mother's birth. If it wasn't for you my mother would be in her estate in Hightown where she belongs instead of in this dump with you. If it wasn't for you my sister and I wouldn't be putting our lives on the line everyday for coin. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't need to go crawling around in the Deep Roads with Darkspawn. We left Ferelden to get the fuck away from Darkspawn.

"So don't you _dare_ talk to me about being ungrateful. We have _nothing_ to be grateful to you for." Her fingers tightened on his neck as her anger built inside of her. She hated him at that moment the anger grew inside of her, hot knot unfurling inside of her blocking out her thoughts other than causing pain. A great red sweep over her vision as a type of manic hysteria swept over her. Her fingers felt so good digging into his throat, pouring her rage into her uncle's flesh.

"Stop it, you're killing him." Her mother's shrill voice screaming from behind her.

"Good," she growled back. The tiny voice in her head urging her to kill the bastard repeated itself like a drum beat in her head. Kill him, kill him, kill him. Four years since she'd heard that chant, had felt such a drive for punishment.

Her sister was beside her a moment later, "He deserves to die, Sekhmet, you're right. But if you get arrested who will take care of mother and I? Let him go."

No, she didn't want to let him go. The drum beat still repeating. What she wanted was to feel his life fade as she squeezed it from him. But Bethany was right; she and mother needed her to take care of them. She held onto the thought of losing Bethany and the intense rage subsided a bit letting her think a bit more clearly. She gave one last squeeze before she let him go. He slid to the floor coughing and clutching at his throat. At least the fear in his eyes was gratifying.

Her mother knelt on the floor beside him checking his throat as he continued to wheeze and cough. "Maybe you should send for your healer friend, Sekhmet."

"No," she wouldn't waste Anders' talents on a piece of scum like her uncle. Her uncle didn't deserve to be healed, to forget the pain and the reason behind it. She looked to Bethany, "Don't you dare try to heal him."

Her sister laughed, "Right, like I would after watching that."

She nodded, slow breath in slow breath out, reel in the crazy a little; wouldn't do to have the whole house scared of her. Slow breath in, the rage slipping off her little by little, slow breath out. She pulled her coin purse off her belt and handed her mother a few coins. "You can have Lady Elegant make him a potion if you think he deserves one. He'll live as it is, he'll just have a sore throat for about a week and we could really use that money elsewhere."

Not waiting for an answer she turned and left. She glanced up at the sun as she jogged down the steps. It looked like it was past noon, good. What she really needed was a good stiff drink.


	11. Chapter 11

**Shell Shocked**

Sekhmet just stood there for a moment in shock, nausea built in the pit of her stomach. Since she had attacked Gamlen things between her and mother had been tense but this, to hear it, was too much. And her mother stood there silently, actually waiting for a response.

Had she thought her mother would ever forgive her for Papa's death, or wouldn't blame her for Carver's as well? It had been upsetting enough to hear her mother scream it at her that day, as her brother's body lay broken and bleeding at their feet, but she hadn't truly believed her mother had felt that way.

It all rushed back at her again, the emptiness, the loneliness of realizing that not even her own mother wanted her. After all the months trekking across Ferelden and the months she had spent fighting for survival since arriving in Kirkwall she had nearly forgotten it. It was amazing how heavy words can be, heavy enough to strain any bonds at all, heavy enough to crush a spirit under, heavy enough to crush a fledgling hope into grit and dust.

Digging deep inside of her she looked for the anger, that powerful drug that had bolstered her through so much in her life since Papa's death. It was gone though, missing or all used up, either way there was nothing left, she had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to take and nothing to show. Her mother's amber eyes stared at her still, and her mother seemed to have anger aplenty as she glared daggers at Sekhmet. The sharp points tearing into her heart and ripping more of it away.

She felt like the shell of an egg, hollowed out and ready to crack. She needed to get out, to get away. She needed a drink and maybe a decent lay, but first she would answer, give her mother the satisfaction she seemed to need.

"Don't you think that if I could bring Carver back for you I would? That if I could trade my life for his I would? I know I'm not the one you wanted to live, I know it would never have been me, and I'm sorry but I'm all there is and I'm doing the best I can." She turned and left Gamlen's tiny, grubby shack quickly not able to stay, she was near tears and could ill afford them.

Outside the door the cool air of the night felt good on her heated face. She paused at the top of the stairs taking a breath before she started down them, not quite running, Tyr keeping pace beside her. The door came banging open after her, "Sekhmet, wait."

It was Bethany, looking to mend fences…again. "I'm alright, Beth."

"She doesn't mean it, she's just hurting." Her sister's voice was wheedling and tinny in her ears, she didn't want to hear it. Beth just couldn't understand the way things worked in the family, how they had worked since she had carried Papa's lifeless body home.

"I know very well how mother feels." It was so hard not to be bitter, but Beth didn't deserve it and so she curbed her tongue the best she could.

"Do you? Do you really? You've been gone, it's just been the three of us, and then she gets us all together finally and has us together for less than a day before Carver dies."

At least they'd had each other; she had ranged up and down Ferelden alone. "As I said I know how she feels. You should go back, I don't know when or if I'll be back tonight."

"Looking for a bottle to crawl into or perhaps a bed?" Her words were sharp, reproving. That was alright, Bethany could look down on her too, Maker knew everyone else did.

"Maybe a few" She responded flippantly before dashing the rest of the way down the stairs and disappearing out into the night.

* * *

She had every intention of heading over to the Hanged Man and drowning her sorrows and guilt with Varric but somehow she found herself in Darktown. She was looking for a fight and found several before she collapsed in a heap on the floor and started trying to find a piece of calm, to find a center that seemed to have spun farther and farther away from her since she had returned to Lothering.

She had almost been happy traveling Ferelden, no specific agenda other than to change scenery and the faces of those around her as often as possible. No one to be disappointed with her or hate her for her failings, no one who even knew her many failings. And she had reveled in that freedom; no one thought anything of an armed woman traveling. If they tried something and she wasn't interested she was more than able to protect herself and if she was interested there was no worry some sordid tale would make it back to her brother's ears.

How many fights had the two of them had over her exploits? Too many to count. _"Do you have to let all my friends fuck you? It's bad enough knowing your sister is the town slut without hearing that all your mates have had her." "I thank the Maker everyday that father isn't alive to see what a disgusting disappointment you are."_ And on and on and on, Carver was always ready with anger and criticism and loathing. It was one of the reasons she had left in the first place.

But when she had heard about the Blight she couldn't stay away. She had tried for a few days but the knowledge that they were in danger and she could help ate at her until she had turned back home, back to Lothering with all its baggage and recriminations. Back to the home where she was no longer wanted or needed, back to the home she had barely missed since she had left. Papa would be angry with her if she didn't head back, and so she found herself standing at the door of her old home with her brother glaring at her and asking what she wanted, that they didn't have anything for her.

She ignored him and moved into the house, pleasantly surprised when Bethany had pulled her into a tight hug; even her mother had a smile for her. But the pleasantries had been short lived, she headed off to Ostagar to offer her services and they were more than willing to take it, they didn't even balk at letting her fight beside her brother, a secret she would keep until they were on the battlefield itself. She hadn't returned to the house but had opted to remain in the camp.

Sekhmet jumped to her feet blades drawn when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Tyr paced back and forth in front of her hackles raised, teeth bared, growly fiercely at the dark haired man that approached her. He was sallow and barely taller than her, and she knew she was short though she was loathe to admit it. "That's close enough, I don't know what you're looking for but I carry no coin and I'm in the mood for murder just now."

"Pardon me serrah, but you seem to have gotten a few injuries taking on all those thugs alone. I thought I might take you to the healer. Those thugs have been stealing what little we have and harassing all of us for weeks, I know the healer would be more than happy to heal your wounds. And he won't ask questions ma'am, it's not his way. He might even put you up for the night. If not, you're more than welcome to pass the rest of the night with my family, it's not much but it's warm and dry."

She patted Tyr on his massive head and the hound sat down beside her, silent but still wary. Her wounds weren't life threatening, a stab to the back of a calf, a few slices, a bruised jaw and several other minor bruises but when she had jumped to her feet a moment ago her body had been stiff and aching. Maybe going to see Anders would be a good idea. She gave the man a smile, "Yes, I think perhaps I should see this healer."

The man nodded and pulled a wicked looking blade from a sheath near the back of his belt. "I'll take you serrah, I'm not great but I can handle a knife fairly well and have seen a few fights. If someone tries to hurt you, I can lend a hand."

He moved close, his eyes constantly on the move looking around them as they headed off to Anders' clinic. Her limp was bad and her jaw ached horribly but she actually felt good. She had worked out a lot of her frustration and the anger that had found her too late while at the same time she had actually managed to help this man and his family. And she wasn't sure why but his simple kindness struck right to the heart of her. He didn't even know her but was willing to risk his life to get her help.

They made an odd procession moving through Darktown, the small dark haired man with his wicked blade held in front of him, her limping behind him and Tyr following behind her licking her palm and nudging her along every so often. They reached the door to Anders' clinic and she put a hand on his arm to stall him for a moment.

"What I said about not carrying coin earlier was a lie." She pulled her coin purse free and gave him a handful of silvers, she wasn't sure how much it was but he deserved every copper. "Thank you for your kindness; this is the best thank you I have."

The man stared into his palm, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Serrah this is too much. I just did what anyone would have."

"Not here, not in Darktown, only you and I appreciate it." She couldn't tell him that a little kindness was exactly what she had needed.

The man swallowed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped the coins up so they wouldn't make noise when he moved. She knew he would need to be careful until he returned to his family but hopefully he would make it there and would be able to feed his family, maybe even rent them a small room somewhere out of Darktown. He pushed the tightly secured packet into his pocket and raised his hand to knock on the clinic door.

"Do you mind me asking your name?" She was curious who it was that was helping her.

"Dogan Rautio." He responded giving her a slow smile, like it was an unfamiliar thing on his face.

Faint footsteps were heard coming towards the door.

"Did you practice you father's craft before coming here?" The name was Antivan she thought, but the accent was Ferelden. She couldn't fathom how a gold-smith would end up in Lowtown.

He snorted, "I did, but what does it matter here."

"I won't forget your help Dogan, I promise." Perhaps the man could start his trade again; Kirkwall had plenty of snobs who loved their gold. She could hear Anders' shuffling steps near the door and Tyr whined quietly beside her. She scratched behind his ears and he quieted down again.

"It is sad to me that such a little thing means so much to you serrah, I will keep you in my thoughts as well. I hope you know much more kindness in the future." They both heard Anders stop just on the otherside of the door. "Healer, I have a woman here, she needs your help. She cleared out the thugs that have been plaguing the western corner by herself."

The door unlocked and swung slowly open, Anders stood there in a light weight pair of trousers and a long woolen tunic laced, as usual, all the way to his neck. His hair was a tangled mess; he had apparently fallen asleep somewhere as evidenced by how he had been stretching his back when the door had opened. He paused at the sight of her, standing up straight and dropping his arms. "Hawke?"

"Hey." Her voice was quiet as she amusedly watched Tyr push past her and started sniffing Anders before plopping himself comfortably beside the door.

"You know the healer? How fortunate, come, come let's get you settled on a cot." Dogan pulled her inside the clinic past Anders and steered her towards a cot where he gently pushed on her shoulders to get her to sit. He turned back to Anders who was still standing by the door. "Can you help her? And perhaps give her shelter for the night. I understand if you can't I already told her she could stay with us."

She would have smiled if her jaw wasn't throbbing from talking so much after getting hit. Dogan must have been a man with a lot of clout back in Ferelden because he sure knew how to throw his weight around and get things done. He stood watching Anders expectantly.

Anders seemed suddenly pulled out of his daze, but his gaze remained riveted on her, his eyes all but glowing with intensity. "Uh, Dogan right?"

Dogan nodded in the affirmative.

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, almost like gentle touches. "She'll be fine; I'll heal her and give her a place to sleep for the night. You should head back to your family; they'll be worried about you."

"Are you sure healer, I feel a little odd just dumping her here." He looked at her and she could see the indecision in his eyes. It was odd since he had been so eager to have her see Anders in the first place. Was Anders' intense stare what had unnerved the man, made him question the wisdom of leaving the two of them alone? And just why _was_ Anders staring at her like that?

"It's alright I know her, and she's in no danger from me." Anders picked up on the man's uneasiness but didn't seem bothered by it in the least.

Dogan turned to Sekhmet who nodded. She didn't plan on staying long anyways. Dogan took a deep breath and quickly left the clinic after resheathing his wicked blade. Anders closed the door behind him and as he moved away from it Tyr pushed to his feet walked in front of it and plopped down again. Head down on his paws she was pretty sure the dog was sleeping in moments. Lazy thing.

Anders stared at her for another few moments before frowning, "What the Void happened to you?"

She looked away, not really wanting to discuss it, especially with Anders. "Can you just fix it then I'll head home."

He walked up to her and she felt so small, so vulnerable. She wondered if he had any idea how defenseless she felt against him half the time. It wasn't just that he was so tall, or that he was beautiful or kind, but she had seen him in action, the man was strong, powerful. A wolf disguised as a lamb and half the time she felt like another sheep falling for the illusion. And tonight she felt like she hadn't any defenses to start with, everything already stripped bare from her conversation with her mother. Why had she agreed to come here?

He stood there just looking at her, it was unnerving. Anders always seemed to be on the move to her, like he had a specific purpose for each moment of his day. But just now he was watching her, his eyes moving over her slowly before his warm honey brown captured her own crystalline blue and she couldn't seem to look away.

As he watched her his long fingers reached out and touched her face trailing down her jaw, a small blaze of sapphire light following in their wake. She had to force herself to sit still, to not shudder at the touch or turn into it. His fingers and the healing felt nice, intimate and brought blessed relief.

She hadn't failed to notice that when the others weren't around he liked to touch her when he healed her. She wondered if he did the same with them, she kind of hoped he reserved that for her; she enjoyed his touch, though it was always brief. He almost seemed to regret touching her but he turned around and did it again and again.

He picked up her left hand and tugged off her glove carefully. She was surprised that it was bruised so badly. He shook his head as he healed it. "If you keep breaking these bones I might not be able to heal them properly. You have weapons; you don't need to hit people."

She remained silent; she didn't even remember hitting anyone. He tugged the other glove free and healed the bruises from that hand as well, she was grateful she didn't seem to have any broken bones there. She watched him curiously as he calmly began working the buckles of her armor free. He didn't seem to have any trouble with them at all, finding all the necessary ones, leaving the others alone. Once he had it undone he carefully peeled it off her.

Her heart raced in her chest when he pushed up her tunic to just under her breastband and his fingers ghosted across her ribs. His fingers were so warm and she enjoyed it knowing his magic would be almost cold. His eyes flicked back to hers periodically as if he was waiting for her to protest, or maybe he just wondered what she was feeling. She was definitely curious about what he was thinking.

She enjoyed his touch and the feel of his healing magic on her skin. It was cool and she felt her nipples stiffening from the chill. Neither of them commented on it, though she did notice his gaze wandering there briefly as he wrapped a hand around her healed ribcage, closing his eyes and sliding it down to her waist.

Without a word he moved to the other side and did the same thing though those ribs didn't need healing. When he reached her waist he scowled and moved his hand around to her back but still remained silent. Another pulse of cool energy flowed out over her skin following Anders' fingers. He was so slow, so gentle and careful it was hard not to imagine him as her lover. He had never touched her this much, had never been this silent when he healed her in the past.

It was nice, a balm, for a little while at least she could pretend that someone cared for her, that someone wanted her, even if she knew it was a lie.

Apparently satisfied he stood back releasing her tunic to cover her again. Without hesitation he reached for the buckles on her hips securing her armor to her legs. When they were free he grabbed it on both sides near the back, without a word she lifted her hips for him and he slid them off carefully pausing where the blood from her injured calf was making the leather stick and peeling it gently from the skin. When he reached her boots he paused long enough to discard them before pulling her armor completely off.

Even though she was still dressed she somehow felt naked under his intense gaze. His eyes roved over her quickly before returning to her leg. He slid the loose leg of her trousers up over her calf and probed carefully around the wound. His fingers settled just under the wound and she watched the sapphire energy swirl from his fingertips and flow over her leg into the wound, longer this time than the other injuries but when it looked healed his fingers skimmed down her leg towards her ankle while the other cupped behind her knee.

He bent her leg a few times before moving so one hand was behind her ankle and the other gripped her foot lightly. He watched her face as he pointed and flexed her foot checking for stiffness or pain. He must have been satisfied because he stood up. His fingers reached for the laces on her tunic then he paused.

Sekhmet watched him carefully. She had never had giddy crushes on boys when she was younger, she never understood what all the fuss was about, mostly she just thought the other girls were ridiculous as they tittered and swooned over this boy or that. Even when she was older she had no problem spotting an attractive man, but it was almost a detached, clinical appreciation.

Having met Anders though, she wondered if perhaps she was just a late bloomer. Seeing his tall slender form even from across the room made her heart pick up. Watching him walk, those long legs eating up the ground sent tingles down her spine. His voice seemed to demand her attention; even in the crowded din of the Hanged Man she could catch his voice from across the room. He had beautiful, full and expressive lips, almost like a woman's. And his eyes were so warm, so gentle and so sad at the same time you couldn't help but feel them tug at your soul.

And then there were more intimate pleasures, she loved the way he smelled. You hear how people all smell differently but it usually isn't something you notice. Anders definitely had his own smell though, he smelled like the Frostbacks and it made her ache. Perhaps the best though were those very few times like now, when he looked at her with that heat in his gaze.

Those flashes of naked want, desire that he struggled to hide. The ones she saw so seldom she often thought she imagined them all together. There was heat there now though; if she hadn't already been sitting her knees might have given out on her. She held his gaze, that hungry wolf stare, not wanting to break the moment, wondering if he would press forward. His fingers tugged at the strings tying her tunic together and it easily came untied. His fingers dragged down one lace again and again.

She wanted to nod, to make some gesture to assure him she wouldn't object, but Anders was like a rabbit sometimes, spooked by the smallest thing so she held still barely daring to breathe waiting for him to continue, to make up his mind. The moments stretched out as they stared at each other and he continued to fiddle with that lace, still undecided though his eyes told another story.

She had a flash of herself laid back on the cot with Anders above her, his long body nearly dwarfing her own. His long hair loose and that dazzling smile of his on those gorgeous lips, still the same heat in his eyes. The image made her heart race faster and she wondered if he could feel it tattooing a staccato beat beneath her skin. She was surprised at herself; usually in her fantasies she had him on his back.

He suddenly took a step away from her and dropped the lace he had been toying with, for one mad moment she wondered if he had caught the stray image but she saw him blinking and then he refocused on her arm. Oh, what she wouldn't give to have had a glimpse at what might have been going on in that mind of his.

She made sure not to react to his abrupt change, to make it seem like she didn't notice it. Whenever something like this happened Anders could disappear for days at a time. She hoped by not reacting he wouldn't feel self conscious and wouldn't drop out of sight again.

Instead of tugging on her lace he wrapped his hand around her upper arm over her tunic and a brief pulse of energy healed another small cut before letting go of her completely. He turned and disappeared from the room and she reached for the armor he had placed carefully on the floor ready to start pulling it back on. This whole situation with him had been odd and a little unnerving.

He had been so silent the entire time he had been healing her that she jumped when he spoke to her now. "Stop."

Even Tyr gave a short bark at the sudden noise before seeing it was just Anders and putting his head back on his paws. She looked up at Anders curiously, his brow was furrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line. For some reason he was carrying his bedroll under his arm. He looked upset though she had no idea why.

She gave him a small smile, wanting to make him a bit more comfortable after he had helped her. "I'm alright now Anders, thank you. I'll get dressed and go home."

"What were you doing out there Hawke? It's late and you know better than to come to Darktown alone. Or were you looking for a fight?" He had her pinned with his gaze and from the look on his face he seemed to already know the answer.

She took a deep breath before responding, he was obviously irritated with her again. "It doesn't matter, I'm alright."

His scowl deepened, "Yes, it matters. Are you an idiot or just suicidal?"

She rubbed her hand over her face a few times, frustrated that he seemed so intent on finding out exactly what she had been doing. An argument was not what she wanted or needed right now. She sighed and shook her head before dropping her hand and looking at him again. "What do you want me to say Anders? I'm sorry we woke you, but I'm fine now, thank you."

He crossed to her, his long legs eating the ground between them in just three steps, a shiver slid down her spine at the sight. Gorgeous.

His voice was gruff and his brows dipped into a scowl. "Is this going to be a habit, stumbling into my clinic in the middle of the night?"

Yes, there it was, her illusion that someone cared for her shattered to pieces, as well it should be. He didn't want her bothering him, as simple as that. She turned her face away from him, her heart aching too much to look at him. It had been stupid to come here. She should have gone to the Hanged Man to drink with Varric, or even gone to see him instead of Anders, he'd have a few poultices on hand, he always did.

"No, it won't happen again." She wouldn't be repeating this mistake at least.

He must have heard something in her voice because she felt his long fingers on her again, curled around her jaw as he slowly turned her to face him, tipping her head up to look at him so he could see her eyes and it was such a long way up. "What's going on Hawke, are you alright?"

She blinked a few times willing the tears to stay at bay a while longer. All that fighting in Darktown to get herself on even ground again all undone with a brief touch from this man who didn't even care about her, it wasn't fair. Though that seemed to be her pattern, always needing the most from those who wanted nothing to do with her. "I'm fine, just very tired. I want to go home." She cursed herself as her voice broke on the last word.

He let go of her chin, his hand instead sliding down her arm to take her hand gently. "Why don't you sleep here? It'll be quiet. No listening to Gamlen snoring." He was placating her.

She pulled her hand away, almost angry that the action wouldn't hurt him like it hurt her everytime he pulled away from her touch. "Don't," he looked at her questioningly, "just don't do that." She wiped her face as a tear slipped free.

He looked worried now; no doubt he didn't want to deal with her tears. She was just another hysterical female patient he had to deal with, had to pretend to listen to, to care about. It was ingrained in him, years of healing dictating his actions more than any real concern. Not that he wasn't a good healer he did care about his patients, about their illnesses and injuries, about their pain, about all of the things he could fix.

But hysterical women, scared children, belligerent men, it all went with the territory. He had to show at least a passing concern in order to calm them and treat them effectively, but he was done treating her. So, she would leave and he could get back to sleep and wouldn't have to worry about the crazy and hysterical woman who had awakened him in the middle of the night.

"Don't what?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"Don't pretend you care, I'm not one of your sad little patients." She really was beginning to sound hysterical.

She was surprised when he inhaled sharply through his nose. "Pretend? You think I'm pretending to be worried about a friend of mine who seems bent on killing herself by throwing herself at every thug she finds? You don't usually come here to see me, to the clinic, but I hear about the white haired terror that comes down and sweeps out all the trash at least once every couple of weeks. I know that you're always alone and it's always at night."

She lowered her eyes; she didn't have it left in her to argue. She was so tired and so alone she just felt used up, empty, hollow. The tinny refrain of the same old complaints echoing in her head. He clearly wasn't going to let her leave and maybe it was just as well, she wasn't exactly sure she would be welcome at home. So she'd sleep here tonight if for no other reason than to ease Anders' conscience and tomorrow she would see about getting a room at the tavern.

She sighed again; she was being uncharitable to Anders. The man had never really done anything to her, and that was precisely the problem. She cared for him, more than just someone she worked with, more than just the man who healed her. But he didn't reciprocate, which wasn't exactly a crime. It just hurt, just reminded her how alone she was.

She looked up at him and nodded, "Alright I'll stay. I'll stay out of your hair and I'll leave before you open the clinic in the morning."

"Stay as long as you want there's plenty of room, you won't be underfoot." He settled onto the cot tugging her gently to join him. "Will you talk to me, tell me what's going on?"

It would be so easy to talk to him, to tell him everything and a large part of her wanted to. But the small shred of dignity she had left kept her from spilling out all of her problems to the beautiful mage beside her. And it was a struggle, because she cared for him, because she wanted to believe that he cared for her. It was just his nature though, he saw someone in pain and his instinct was to fix it. He just happened to be part of the problem this time.

"Just family, it's hard all of us being crammed in there, always in each other's way, no way to get a break from each other. Coming down here is so I don't end up doing that to my family. Just frustration, really I'm alright." Apparently, taking out rage on family is frowned upon.

"Still problems with Gamlen then?" Bethany had obviously told him all about her little 'fight' with Gamlen.

"No, once we got over the whole 'That crazy bitch can't live here' thing he's been pretty quiet. Gives me a wide berth, which is good for both of us. I still want to hit him everytime I look at him." She dragged out a smile and plastered it on her face for him. Gamlen had been easy to cow after their little dispute, he'd only made the one comment and when she had snapped at him had fallen silent and stayed that way.

He looked dubious, "You're always welcome to come here for a little space. I don't mind." He touched her shoulder tentatively and she wanted to scream but she just sat there quietly waiting for him to get up so she could crawl into bed and forget today ever happened. "And I'm not sure what brought about the idea that I pretend to care but…"

She cut him off not wanting to hear whatever bland quick fix statement he was about to make. "I'm sorry about that."

She could feel his eyes on her, could feel him hesitating but finally he pushed himself up to his feet and handed her the bedroll. "Not the best accommodations but I didn't finish washing all the linens yet. Or start really."

She could smell it, smell him, the thing was absolutely covered in his scent. It was going to be a long night. "It's alright, it looks warm and comfortable. Thank you."

He nodded, "Pick any cot you want," he smiled just the slightest bit, "obviously there's lots of room." He stayed there watching her for another minute before he turned and headed to his small room at the back of the clinic. He walked slowly and she was sure he was going to turn around again, try to get her to talk again but he didn't. He hesitated at the door making her hold her breath but finally walked through.

She laid out the bedroll on the cot she had sat on while Anders had healed her. She let her hair down, slipping the pins into the bag on the belt of her armor before sliding into the bedroll. His scent enveloped her and she felt another tug at her heart, no one smelled like that man. Bethany and Papa both had scents she associated with them when they were casting. Papa like fresh loamy earth and Bethany reminded her of apples, the tart and tangy ones. She remembered thinking Bethany's magic should smell sweeter, more like her personality.

But Anders, he smelled like his magic all the time, it was just stronger when he cast. He smelled like the cold water of early spring, like the cool mountain air at the higher elevations, like the deep untouched forests in the mountains. It was soothing, refreshing, she buried her head and giggled. To her Anders smelled like the thing he wanted most in the world, freedom. The mountains were always her favorite as a child and had been the first place she had gone after leaving Lothering.

She snuggled down into the bedroll as it warmed rapidly; she hadn't even realized that she had been cold. With his scent surrounding her, and the warmth of the bedroll nestled around her it was easy for her to fantasize about him holding her, curled up around her from behind, his chin resting above her head his long legs running the length of her own and further. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel it.

* * *

Anders tossed and turned on his cot. It was difficult to get comfortable knowing Hawke was so close, sleeping in the next room, sleeping in his bedroll. He was aroused, couldn't help it. He had tortured himself with touching her so intimately when he healed her, there was no reason he needed to touch her, or remove her armor other than he had wanted to. It was only with great will power that he had been able to stop himself from taking off her tunic and trousers. She had put up no resistance at all and he was sure she would have let him continue undressing her.

Even now he was sure that if he were to get out of the cot and go to her she would not turn him away which was why he was still awake, warring with himself, torturing himself with thoughts of her. The moment he had seen her he had wanted to take her into his arms, to soothe and heal her. And as soon as Dogan was gone he hadn't been able to stop himself from wanting to touch her, from wanting her. Having her alone and vulnerable in his clinic had stirred him in dangerous ways.

It hadn't just been desire to bed her that had moved him, but desire to take care of her, to provide the comfort she so obviously needed. It still stung that she thought he had been pretending to care. He had wanted to tell her how wrong she was but she didn't want to hear it and he knew it would be better for them both if she believed he saw her only as someone he worked with. The knowledge didn't make him feel any better.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to shove thoughts of her out of his mind, wanting to try to get a little more sleep before morning. He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to be there or not when he woke up. As he slipped into slumber thoughts of her sleeping just feet away still plagued his mind.

It was wrong of him, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself. He rarely indulged in fantasies anymore since Justice had put a leash on him. But here in his little corner of the Fade it couldn't hurt, just a harmless fantasy, a bit of 'what if' to make his night easier. Justice seemed concerned that Anders wanted some sort of sordid sexual fantasy but all he really wanted was to be with her, to hold her, to not be afraid to show her how he really felt.

The two of them, somewhere far from Kirkwall, in a small secluded clearing, a stream burbling nearby as they had a picnic, alone except for the ever present Tyr, even in fantasies he couldn't manage to prise her away from the dog. It was all so simple, so seemingly harmless, talking freely about anything and everything, touching her without that deep ache. Even a chaste kiss or two, alright maybe not so chaste, but it was nothing more and there was no expectation of more.

As the sun set she moved so she was watching it with him, leaning back against him, head on his chest as he curled an arm around her. The sunset was beautiful, pinks, purples and hazy golds, and Anders enjoyed it but mostly he enjoyed the feel of her against him as they watched it.

She pulled away from him and he ached to feel her again immediately. But she lay down and tugged him down to lie behind her. She scooted backward until her body pressed against his and he wrapped his arms around her. His heart was racing in his chest even though he knew it was only a dream, that none of it was really happening. He kissed the top of her head, and took long slow breaths, and then inhaled even deeper as he caught her scent, that wild unrestrained something that he loved.

He caught her hitching her breath, "What's wrong love?"

"You'll laugh." A quiet declaration on her part.

Her quiet worried him, she was hardly ever quiet. In fact, tonight in the clinic had only been the second time he had seen her be quiet at all. "Try me?"

She snuggled back a little more, tucking her head down a little. "I hate that this only a dream, that this is the closest I'll ever get to you."

His heart felt like it stopped beating, "What?"

"Nothing," her voice picking up a forced lightness, "don't mind me, just hold me close please."

Dreams were a funny tricky thing, his own fears parroted to him from the lips of his dream lover. He ignored it, agreeing with her that all he really wanted at this moment was to hold her in the waning light.

As morning neared Justice pulled him from slumber admonishing him that there were things to be done that were more important that his ridiculous Fade fantasies. He sat up and stretched before grabbing a long sleeved tunic from the chest and pulling it on. He laced it up tight; he didn't like the stares when people saw his scar. Still wearing his trousers from the night before he opened the door into the clinic hoping she would still be there.

She was sitting on the edge of the cot bent over tying her boot, her armor already all in place. Tyr sat attentively at her feet panting happily. He felt disappointment wash over him, she was obviously ready to leave and he had hoped for at least a little more time with her. She glanced up at him and quickly looked back down. He wasn't sure, but he thought she had blushed when she looked at him.

It amused him to no end that a woman as crass as she could be was capable of blushing. Sometimes he thought her mouth was all an act. Sometimes he was sure she would have given him a run for his money in his more carefree days.

"Morning." He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

She finished with her boot and sat up, "Morning." She turned and picked up his bedroll, already neatly tied up for him, she crossed to him with a hesitant smile. "Thank you, it was very comfortable."

This time he watched the flush climb up her neck. He bit his lip for a moment and made a decision. "You had sweet dreams I hope."

The flush darkened. "Uh, yes, they were rather nice." She took a breath and seemed to regain herself. "And you? Did you sleep well, any nice dreams, perhaps naughty ones?"

Ah well, they were back to this; it was alright he had seen her reaction to the question about her dreams and knowing she had been dreaming about him was enough to keep him feeling pretty good for a few days at least. "It was a night without nightmares and that's a good night's sleep in my book."

She nodded, not bothered at all that he didn't take the bait. Turning she seemed to take in the whole of the clinic before she looked back to him. "Did you need any help this morning? I have nothing else I need to be doing right now."

He thought quickly, he wanted her to stay. "Do you mind helping wash the linens?"

She shrugged, "Sure, when do your patients start coming in?"

"We'll start seeing them come in as soon as I light the lanterns, but I would prefer to get the washing done first. I'll need them by the end of the day and if we wash them now they should be dry by time I need them." He walked over to the crate in the corner that held the dirty linens and to wooden tub he used to do the washing in.

He canted his head at her as he began filling the tub with water, a simple spell that had become a life saver in his little Darktown clinic. "You might not want to wear your armor, it'll likely get wet."

She raised a brow and smirked, "Are you trying to get me to undress for you Anders?"

He had a few flashes of the night before and thought briefly of making a comment about how willing she had been to let him undress her last night but held his tongue. "It's up to you, it was just a thought." He was actually feeling pretty good after sleeping last night. Usually he let her wind him up with her teasing, he actually felt calm about it today.

He was even more pleased when she started removing her armor.

* * *

Bethany was worried, more worried than she was willing to admit. She paced around the Gamlen's snapping at Gamlen and his muttered remarks. If she heard him say they would all be better if Sekhmet was dead she was going to turn him to ash herself.

It was well past noon and Sekhmet was still missing. She had gone to Varric's this morning but neither he nor Isabela had seen her sister. She had even gone to ask Aveline to have the guard keep an eye out for her, something Sekhmet would never forgive her for if she found out. Aveline had waived it all off telling her not to worry.

She had thought several times about going to Anders' but didn't want to interfere if something had finally happened between them. And she told herself again and again not to worry, Tyr was with her. That dog would defend Sekhmet to the death, he was a good Mabari and a great dog.

"After all the things that girl has done how can she leave us all here to worry like this? Such a selfish thing." Her mother was staring into the fire wringing her hands and muttering.

Bethany had heard enough of all this crap her mother was spouting like Sekhmet was to blame for everything bad that had happened to them. "Mother, you have to stop this. Don't you know what you're doing to her? What you, what we allowed Carver to do to her? Why do you think she left the first time? She felt unwanted. Carver was so vicious, blamed her for so much and you let him. You never stood up for her. And neither did I." A shame she still hadn't gotten over.

"Don't you remember what that did to her? She came back, she's been taking care of us, been doing everything she can so we can have a better life. You know it's not her fault Carver died. You have to stop blaming her or she might stop coming home at all. Is that what you want, for her to leave again? If it is you're on the right track."

Mother looked stricken. "Of course I don't want her to leave."

"Then act like it. Tell her you love her, that you don't blame her. Apologize to her; let her know you want her here with us. You can't blame her everytime you think of Carver. I know it hurts, I feel like I lost a part of myself and I want someone to blame but…" She took a shaky breath, just thinking about him sometimes was enough to send her into tears. "But that ogre killed Carver, no one else."

Gamlen stood and glared at her, "That ogre might have been what killed your brother but it was that bitch of a sister of yours that tried to kill me. Stop acting like she's some kind of hero, she's a murdering thief and I want her and that damn dog out of my house!"

Mother glared at him, stalking across the room to stand toe to toe with him. "My daughter spared your life when she didn't need to. My daughters keep food on our table while you spend your money on booze and floozies. My daughter's dog keeps the collectors from breaking into your house and taking what few possessions you have. My daughter's connections keep the criminal slime you associate with from hurting you or worse." Her voice rose with every sentence and Gamlen seemed to shrink in on himself.

Taking a deep breath Mother continued much more calmly. "However, if it is your wish that the four of us leave we will look for lodgings immediately." She turned and gave Bethany a smile, "Won't we dear?"

Bethany was shocked; this was a side of her mother she hadn't seen since her father had died. This strong, proud woman standing before her made her want to beam with pride. She was just sorry Sekhmet had missed it.

"No, that won't be necessary. You're family afterall." Gamlen mumbled before easing back into his chair.

Her mother smiled at her and silently mouthed, "Thank you," to her.

She wasn't sure what she had done, but hopefully her mother would stop moping at last. And though she wanted to stay and be with her mother who seemed to finally be finding herself she needed to find Sekhmet. In her room she slipped into her robe with the chainmail that Carver had helped her make. Slipping the dagger Sekhmet had bought for her and had spent hours training her with into a sheath on her belt. She filled a pack with a few provisions determined to find Sekhmet before she returned to Gamlen's. Grabbing her staff she headed for the door.

Interruption or not she needed to go to Anders' and see if he had seen her sister.

Hand on the door she paused, "I'm going to loo…" she stumbled backwards as the door suddenly opened.

Tyr came bounding in with a happy bark, licking her hand before trotting over to mother. Sekhmet came in slower and Beth was surprised that Sekhmet didn't seem like she had a hangover or like she was feeling a mountain of regret. So, she was someplace all night not drinking and probably not having sex either. She didn't seem overly dirty or beat up so where had she been and what had she been doing?

Mother hurried over to her and gave her a hug, "Oh, my darling girl, I'm so sorry." She let Sekhmet go and held her out at arms' length. "Are you alright? Where have you been, we were so worried."

Bethany rolled her eyes a little at the display but was glad Mother was being decent. She walked over and looked Sekhmet over more closely, "Yes, are you alright?"

Her sister gave a small smile and nodded, "I'm fine. Anders took Tyr and I in last night. He let me sleep on a cot in his clinic and to repay him I helped with laundry this morning or I would have been home sooner."

Beth snorted, "You sleep here all the time but never do laundry."

Mother smiled, "You'd be surprised, Beth, by the things a woman is more than happy to do for a good looking man that she would never willingly do for her family."

Sekhmet gave them a little smile but didn't say a word.


	12. Chapter 12

**Side by Side**

Sekhmet stood in front of the door for a moment, her hands laden with bags. She felt hesitant to enter the clinic not quite sure how Anders would take to her encroaching upon his territory. She decided it would be best to handle it like she handled most everything else, just jump right in with both feet. Anders was generally easy enough to deal with, though by going into his territory she was taking away his ability to run away from her, so who knew what would happen?

She decided to go in with high hopes. Regardless of him taking off on her on occasion, the two of them had some kind of bond or kinship. So, taking a deep breath she kicked the door lightly and waited for him to answer. There was nothing for several moments then his voice called out. "Give me a minute."

A minute later she heard a quiet shuffling inside and a grin spread across her face, whenever she stood here waiting for him to come open the door it always sounded as if he was shuffling across the floor like an old man. The shuffling steps came closer and she heard him pause on the other side of the door. "It's just me Anders, let me in."

He grumbled a bit, nothing distinct and it was a few more moments before he pulled the door open. Her heart beat sped up and she tried not to stare but she had gotten used to seeing him always completely covered in long loose fitting clothes. And though he was still covered completely the outfit was far different from anything she had seen him in before. The fabric was thin and cut close to his body.

He raised a quizzical brow and grabbed several of the sacks from her. "And what is all of this?"

She watched as the fabric moved with his lean body, pulling across the muscles of his arms and chest. He turned from her and walked towards the tables at the back of the clinic. Sekhmet was still watching him when he set the bags down; the fabric had pulled against his back when he walked as well as cupping and molding itself against his ass. And she couldn't be sure but she was pretty sure she saw dark spots on his skin under the thin fabric that could only be more tattoos. As a matter of fact it looked like most of his back was covered.

He turned back to look at her with a raised brow and leaned back to recline against the table. "Are you going to tell me why you woke me up or are you just going to stand there and stare?" Just the faintest touch of a smile graced his beautiful lips.

She chuckled, "We both know you weren't sleeping."

He gave a slight nod as if conceding the point and the sliver of a smile held steady. "I could have been, and you're still staring."

She smirked back at him and crossed to the table he was leaning against, legs casually crossed as well as his arms. "Perhaps I see something I like." She set her bags down and carefully looked him over again. His body was hardly concealed by the thin fabric. He was all lean lines, long and stronger than she expected though he was a bit too skinny.

She tore her gaze from him and pointed to one of the bags he had taken from her. "There are some canisters in there; I want to make sure they are all still intact."

He turned and started pulling them free of the bag checking each carefully for breakage before setting it aside. She started pulling herbs, beeswax and oils from the other bags and separating them carefully. Finished, he started moving around her, clearing off the few things of his that were remaining on the table and moving them to another.

With his new task done he stopped, standing directly behind her; she could feel him watching her for several minutes before he spoke again. "So were you planning on telling me you were turning my clinic into an apothecary or were you just going to open shop and hope I didn't notice?" His gentle teasing was appreciated; at least he hadn't tossed her out.

She began filling the canisters, "I figured you would like the company. Besides, I can take care of a lot of the smaller injuries and illnesses without you having to waste your mana. That way we can help more people without you exhausting yourself all of the time."

"Ah, so this is for my benefit." She could hear the smirk in his voice. He moved beside her and leaned against the table watching her again.

She tried to concentrate on her task but she couldn't stop looking at the man. This time he didn't comment, though he obviously noticed, his smirk cranking up a notch as she dragged her eyes away again and again. His amusement at her stares was bordering on arrogant and why did that make him even more appealing?

And then it struck her, she realized why he'd seemed so familiar since they met, why she was so quickly attracted to him. She almost laughed, especially, since she was pretty sure the reason she was so attracted to Anders was that he reminded her of herself: obsessive, confident bordering on arrogant with a couple of deep insecurities, protective and a personality bigger than life. Oh, and those dangerous good looks didn't hurt either. Tall, scarred, tattooed and a story that could make the saints weep, it was like someone cooked him up to be a bad girl fantasy. And if he was just a dream she had no intention of waking.

She wasn't sure how she had missed just how comfortable he was in his own skin until she had watched him lounging about in the barely there clothes he was currently wearing. Even as tall as he was he had an easy grace to him, he was highly aware of his body, and his sexual appeal, as much as he tried to deny it. It also explained Bethany's reaction to him, which almost made her want to leave Anders alone, regardless of what Beth had said. It was the first time she had ever seen her sister show any interest in anyone.

But she prided herself on being honest with herself, if with no one else. She liked Anders, liked the puzzle of him, the back and forth dance the two of them were doing. She wasn't used to having to chase a man or caring when he didn't seem interested. No, he was different, make you tingle from across the room with just a glance in your direction, heating your blood with a smile different. Oh, and the man was smart and _that_ just made it better.

She smiled wide as she looked him over again, "Dressed like that Anders, I think I just learned all of your secrets."

He glanced casually down at himself before looking up at her, smirk sliding into a sexy little smile, "All of them, huh?"

The man must have been really tired if he was not only letting her flirt with him without a scolding but coming very close to flirting himself. Her eyes kept trying to make out the tantalizing dark spots under the tunic. What were they and how many did he have? And thinking about the tattoos made it easier to keep her gaze above his waist and not wondering about what else was under that thin fabric.

She turned so she was facing him, "Admit it tall, blonde and gorgeous, you dressed that way just for me."

Those honey brown eyes of his sparked with mischief. "Well I did get dressed for you, answering my door in what I sleep in would be inviting trouble, especially from you. Let's just say it's not suitable for polite company." Just like that, calm and cocky, eyes watching her closely. He was winding her up on purpose.

She nearly choked picturing the implication, "Sweet Maker, are you trying to kill me?"

He stepped close looming over her and dropping his voice just the slightest. "It's a good thing you didn't show up fifteen minutes earlier." The big bad wolf coming out to play again, it was such a simple statement, but enough to fill her head with images that would have her drooling for days.

She gave an exaggerated shiver, "Thanks for that, my daydreams appreciate it."

He chuckled a little as he stepped away, "Happy to help." He slipped into his room closing the door three quarters of the way. "So what's going on today, anything exciting?"

Clearly, the moment was over but it had been nice while it lasted. "Bethany brought home a flyer last night about some guy needing help to find his wife and he's offering a reward. Want to come with me?"

He strolled out of his room, leather trousers and long coat on, carrying his boots. He sat on a cot to start tugging them on. "Sounds good, and with any luck we can open the clinic later."

She had a girlish rush of excitement at his use of 'we'. She couldn't believe herself, she was an adult and acting like an idiot. Shouldn't she be more mature at her age, a little less prone to giddiness? She felt as young as Bethany with her silly crush on their blonde haired mage. Life certainly had a weird sense of humor.

* * *

Ghyslain was a pale and angry man. The way the man spoke about his wife was riling Sekhmet. It was men like him that made a woman never want to get married. She grit her teeth trying to keep herself from stabbing the idiot. Apparently, she wasn't doing a very good job because she felt a sharp tug on the back of her belt. Jerking her head she saw Anders standing close to her, his eyes still on Ninette's jackass of a husband but the tiniest sliver of a curve touched his lips.

She debated briefly whether or not to be angry that he had grabbed her belt like he would a dog's collar to call an unruly hound to heel. Finally, she decided not to get angry, no one else seemed to have noticed and he _had_ just stopped her from committing murder in the Hightown market in the middle of the day. Something she was sure even Aveline wouldn't have been able to help her out of.

Isabela was apparently doing no better than she was; Bethany's soothing voice had spoken to their pirate queen a couple of times to restrain her from injuring the idiot complaining about his wife. And she had to respect Isabela for not breaking and killing the man. Instead, she voiced her own concerns about what they were going to do.

"You're not seriously going to bring her back to this ass are you Hawke?" Her words dripped with venom and Ghyslain didn't even look bothered by the outburst.

"We'll find out if something happened to her. If we find her we'll let her know you're looking for her." She turned away, sick of dealing with the bastard already.

"She is my wife, serrah. She _will_ be brought back home." His voice whined at her.

What was wrong with men that they never seemed to realize where the line was? How was it that they seemed to have no idea when to shut their mouths? She spun on her heel and shoved the pasty prick against the wall.

"Hawke," Anders' voice was sharp behind her.

"I'm fine, Anders." She responded, quickly letting Ghyslain go. "And you, serrah, are lucky your wife decided to leave instead of getting rid of you. She's a kinder woman than I." She turned back around and headed quickly down the stairs putting as much distance between her and Ghyslain De Carrac as she could as quickly as possible. From their footsteps the others weren't far behind her.

As they walked away she heard Anders' voice, quiet and teasing, "Really Hawke, in the middle of Hightown?"

She gave him a mock glare, "I didn't ask you to interfere; besides all I was going to do was smack some sense into the idiot."

He flicked a gaze over his shoulder where Bethany was deep in conversation with Isabela before looking at her again. "Riiiight, I'm sure you always grab a knife in a death grip before you smack some guy around."

Tension bled from her at the teasing. She smirked and shrugged, "Well, if men weren't so dense I wouldn't need a knife to smack sense into them."

He didn't quite smile but his eyes caught a little twinkle, "I hope you'll at least cut me a little slack. I don't mind being smacked around a bit, I enjoy a rough bit of play now and then, but I'm not a big fan of being stabbed. Perhaps, just try asking first, or if your heart is set on getting physical just use your hands." The last four words were spoken slower, more measured. And his eyes held her momentarily captive.

What? Flirting again, twice in one day? Amazing. She wasn't sure whether she should flirt back or not. She didn't want him to balk now that she had finally gotten something from him. He kept watching her as they walked and when she didn't speak for a moment his eyebrow raised questioningly, seeming to her almost like a challenge. "I'll keep that in mind," she let that linger in the air for just a moment before finishing, "all of it." She flashed him a sassy little smile.

He chuckled, "You do that."

She looked him over, head to toe, his lips were a little curled in a small semblance of a smile and he seemed somehow less heavy today. She wondered where the change had come from "Someone's in a good mood today."

He nodded a little, "So I am, at least better than I have been."

She couldn't help a smug smile. "In that case, I'm just going to congratulate myself on a job well done."

That raised eyebrow again, "Are you sure it was you?"

That gave her a moment's pause. Was someone else charming her mage when she had failed so spectacularly? But he didn't really know anyone besides her. "Who do you know enough besides me to put you in a good mood? Besides you were with me all morning."

He gave a noncommittal shrug, "You've introduced me to some very interesting and attractive people Hawke. Could have been any of them, or even someone I met at the clinic."

He was teasing her, she knew it but it didn't make her feel any better about it. The idea of him with someone else made her angry. If the man was going to give in to someone it should be her, she'd been after him for weeks.

He chuckled again, "Did I just sign someone's death warrant? Relax Hawke, there's no one, I just feel good alright?"

It should have made her happy, but a big part of her had wanted to be the one who brought on his good mood. And wasn't that childish, couldn't she just be happy that he was feeling good? She had no idea what was wrong with her lately, she had never been possessive of a man, had never felt jealous before. Then again she had never fixated on someone before like she did with Anders.

It was his bad luck that he was the first person she had really wanted in more than a momentary passing fashion. And perhaps both of their bad luck that she seemed to want more than just a little bit of nude recreation from him. Not for the first time she wondered if he was so reluctant when it came to her because he was used to doing the pursuing instead of being pursued. Maybe he thought she was too forward. She frowned, what if he thought she was acting desperate? No way to turn a man, or her, off faster.

"Hawke?"

She glanced back to him, "Mmm?"

He looked more serious than he had a moment ago but his eyes still held that spark of mischief. "Is there a reason you're scowling? Is there some rule that only one of the two of us can be in a good mood at any one time?"

Maker, he kept teasing her today. What was different? Why today? Not that she was complaining, she just wanted to know what it was so she could repeat it in the future if possible. Maybe even win another smile from him, a real smile, the full blown heart stopping smile she'd seen only once before. "Sorry, just lost in my thoughts I guess." She flashed him a small smile.

Was it just her imagination or were his eyes darker than they were a minute ago? "And what ugly thoughts were you having that made you scowl like that?"

She paused for a moment, and he stopped beside her, eyes warm and watching her so closely. What to tell him? She couldn't admit to her jealousy, the man was uncomfortable enough with just her teasing and flirtations on most days. So she really had no idea what to say to him. She inhaled sharply, completely surprised when he reached for a piece of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. His eyes steadily holding her own, but they weren't teasing anymore.

"Tell me beautiful girl, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours." He let the hair slip away slowly and didn't seem to realize that Isabela and Bethany had stopped talking behind them.

The two women were now completely focused on her and Anders. She couldn't blame them she almost didn't recognize this teasing, irreverent, and bolder Anders. Was this more like the man he had been? She realized she had bitten her bottom lip only when his gaze wandered to her lips and a flicker of heat rose in his eyes. She took a deep breath calming her heart that had taken off at a wild gallop when he had played with her hair. "I was just wondering what it would take to make you really smile again."

His eyes were focused on her lips again, or maybe lower, it was hard tell being as short as she was. "Maybe I've simply forgotten how. Perhaps you can remind me." His tongue snaked out quickly and licked his bottom lip. An unconscious gesture?

Her skin was tingling, and her heart was speeding up again. He had taken things so much further today than he had ever let them go, even though they were just trading words. Well words and the way he looked at her periodically. And where had all her wit gone? She could barely think right now. So instead, she gave him another smile, tried for a sexy one but wasn't sure about her success. "You have my word, I'll try my best."

"Of that I have no doubt." He reached out and touched her wrist almost like he was going to take her hand.

Isabela cleared her throat loudly, "Before you two start rolling around naked in the market and give poor Bethany nightmares can we get going? And perhaps the two of you can get a room at the brothel."

Anders dropped his hand and his demeanor changed so quickly it was like someone had doused him with ice water. "Yes, we should be moving along. Ninette could be in trouble."

Was that look of his, the one filled with shame, ever going to stop hurting? She'd seen it at least a dozen times since they met and it always felt like someone had slapped her. And what was worse? She usually felt a flush creeping up her neck like she had done something wrong. Maybe it was hard not to feel that way when he looked so ashamed.

* * *

Bethany felt nauseous; her stomach had become a churning pit. She was nervous about going to the brothel to begin with and the tense silence that had fallen over the group after Isabela's chastisement was only making it worse. Her sister was distracted which didn't bode well if something bad should happen inside of the brothel.

She still wasn't sure what had prompted Isabela to interfere. A few seconds before hand she had been musing about how much she would have liked to see Sekhmet and Anders…fooling around. It had taken all of her restraint not to cover her ears as the pirate pontificated about her sister's body and how her small body would look fantastic next to Anders' rather lanky form. Isabela had even asked her if Sekhmet fancied tattoos, assuring her that Anders had quite a few.

She had been about to ask how Isabela knew about Anders' tattoos when the Rivani woman had interrupted her sister's and Anders' playful banter. Anders had shut down, become almost cold to her sister. And Sekhmet had flushed looking terribly ashamed and had been completely silent since. Bethany couldn't understand either of their behavior.

And now they were standing at the door in front of the Blooming Rose. She'd never been in a brothel before, though she'd been curious and Sekhmet had offered to take her to one once. Now she could sate her curiosity and claim it was work related, which it was. It was true she'd never had a lover, but it was by her own choosing not because she didn't have options. She'd had a few boys interested in courting her in Lothering, but had to be cautious because of her magic.

They crossed the threshold and Sekhmet stopped to take a quick look around. Beth thought it looked terribly ordinary, she'd always imagined low lighting, hazy smoke and lots of perfume. She glanced at Isabela who was watching Anders closely. Bethany wanted to tell her to back off but was hesitant. She'd caught Anders watching the pirate intently a few times in the last few days. Perhaps, he was interested in Isabela. Although, before she had been sure he wanted Sekhmet. Putting her sister and him together might be more complicated than she originally thought.

"Let's get in and out of here quickly; I don't want someone trying to hire me again." Anders grumbled.

Isabela laughed, "Really Anders, in Denerim you couldn't wait to take your clothes off and show me your electricity trick!"

Her sister dropped her head looking at the floor and scuffed her shoe against the carpet. Should she go to her? Her sister cared for Anders, finding out that he had bedded Isabela must have hurt. It stung her and she wasn't really interest in him anymore. She decided to stay where she was, not wanting to destroy her sister's illusion of looking bored.

Anders turned to Isabela, "Ah, that's where I know you from. I kept thinking you looked familiar but couldn't place where I had seen you before. Last time I saw you, you were curled up in a pile of furs with that girl with the griffon tattoo."

Isabela nodded, "The Lay Warden, yes, she was a special girl. Though, not nearly so talented as a real Warden."

Anders shrugged, "I'll have to take your word for it."

"Come on, we need to find Jethann." She couldn't let them carry on, especially in front of her sister.

"Right," Sekhmet started forward with quick strides. Once in what appeared to be the main room she waved them off while she went to go talk with an elven girl.

While she was gone Isabela and Anders kept talking, babbling about a woman named Sanga and a cross dresser that was nearly flawless as well as some other odd stuff. Seeing Sekhmet on her way back she snapped at the two of them, "If you're done reminiscing about your whorehouse days together can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Relax Bethany, we're not doing anything important right now." Isabela gave her a curious look.

Anders looked at her for a long moment before glancing at Sekhmet than back to Bethany again. "No, she's right. We can reminisce some other time."

He'd obviously figured out why she was upset and ended the conversation. Sekhmet would probably kill her if she ever realized what she had done. Her sister hated looking weak. But someone had to look out for the older Hawke once in a while.

Sekhmet waved them over, "He's up the stairs, room on the left." She smiled a tiny bit. "It's supposed to be his rest day but she was sure he'd be willing to see me…us." She headed for the stairs jogging up them.

Jethann turned out to be a red headed elf with the prettiest violet eyes Bethany had ever seen. He was a little vulgar, but she supposed that was to be expected in a brothel. Once they had as much information as they could get from him they headed out of the room.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you to question me alone, my white haired goddess?" His voice had deepened a bit and sounded rougher.

Curious she turned to look and caught the elf openly ogling her sister.

Her sister smiled and turned back, "I have the coin, tempt away."

Anders stepped towards Sekhmet's back then clenched his hands into fists spun on his heel and left the room in a hurry. Isabela shook her head and laughed following Anders out of the room. For a moment she thought about leaving too. Let Anders see what it felt like to know Sekhmet was with another man. But, Sekhmet had left this part of her life behind and Beth knew she was only doing it now because she was hurt.

"There has to be a better time for this, sis. Ninette's still missing." She let the smallest amount of fear slip into her voice, "What if she's been taken somewhere and tortured, what if she's waiting to be rescued?" Over the top possibly, but it worked.

Sekhmet took a deep breath and dropped a few coins into Jethann's hand. "Maybe another time, my thanks for letting a girl feel pretty for a few moments."

He scowled and gave the coins back, "No thanks needed for the truth pretty girl, now go find darling Ninette. And you can give me this, when I actually earn it." He gave her another lewd smile before heading to a wardrobe in the corner.

Her sister joined her and they headed downstairs, a quick scan found Isabela flirting with a tall fair skinned woman, but Anders was nowhere to be seen. Isabela noticed them and headed towards them waving good-bye to the woman she had been chatting with. Bethany was curious about the woman, did Isabela bed women too?

She'd heard rumors that her sister did but Sekhmet would never talk to her about it. She'd seen Sekhmet flirting with women, but honestly, her sister flirted with just about everyone including boys who had barely reached puberty and men with one foot in the grave. Maybe she would have better luck talking to Isabela about it. Why would a woman want to be with another one?

"Where's Anders, we need to get going." Her sister was all business now.

"Possibly outside or maybe he went back to Darktown. I'm not really sure." Isabela looked unfazed by her sister's brusque demeanor.

They found Anders outside leaning against the wall and scowling at the ground, snapping at any guard who tried to move him along. He flicked his gaze in their direction and ended up doing a double take. "Hawke?"

"What? We have work to do." She didn't bother to look at him as she crossed to the stairway winding down into Darktown taking the steps two at a time.

Anders fell into step beside Bethany, "So she didn't…" He gestured with his hands as if she should know what he was talking about.

"Don't see how that concerns you." Maybe she shouldn't be mad for her sister's sake but she was. The way he'd toyed with Sekhmet today, first teasing her and then becoming so cold to her was just crap. Where did he get off treating her sister like that?

"Are you angry with me Beth?" He looked surprised.

"Don't Beth me." She snapped, he was using the nickname to soften her. She'd noticed he used the familiar name when he thought she was upset. She wasn't falling for it this time though. He'd hurt Sekhmet and then had the audacity to act angry when she had accepted Jethann's invitation.

"Alright, care to tell me what I did to deserve all this hostility?" He looked up as Isabela jogged past them to walk with Sekhmet, frowning as she did.

Bethany rolled her eyes, "I don't understand you at all, Anders. I really thought you cared about my sister. She tried to tell me you didn't, but I didn't believe it. The way you look at her, the way you look after her, I just really...Well, I suppose I should have listened to her. I guess that's what makes her the older sister; she understands the world better than I do."

He'd paled a little as she had spoken and could barely look at her as he responded. "It's not that simple."

"You're the one who's making it complicated, no one else." She shot back.

"I know." And he suddenly looked impossibly sad. "I don't mean to hurt her. You know that don't you?"

Why did he care what she believed? And how was she supposed to stay angry with him looking at her like that with those big sad brown eyes. "I don't know what to believe. I don't…I don't know a lot about men."

They had reached Darktown and the stench was overwhelming. He crowded her a little making her step back until he had her in a corner. His eyes focused sharply on her before deliberately looking down at her cleavage. "Seems to me you know plenty about men."

Her eyes roved over his shoulder to find Sekhmet. Her sister was chatting with a few Fereldens probably hoping to narrow the search. Jethann had sent them after a Templar and a Templar was sure to stick out in a place like Darktown.

Content her sister was otherwise engaged she glared at Anders. "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was angry and she felt hot anger burn through her again.

He stepped away from her pushing his hand into his bound hair. "Losing my mind?" His eyes drifted closed and he took a slow breath. "I'm sorry, right thought, wrong action." His eyes opened and they were just sad again, sad and filled with pain. "Definitely one of my more idiotic ideas, not that I'm terribly famous for having any good ideas."

She stepped away from the wall. "What's going on?"

"It'd be easier for us both if she hated me. I wouldn't have hurt you. I just…" He chuckled darkly, "expediency and all."

"You were going to use me to make her angry." She took time to absorb it.

"She said she'd kill me if I touched you." He wasn't looking at her now; his gaze was back on Sekhmet, with such a look of longing it nearly broke her heart.

"She really would have killed you. Not just hated you, she would have actually killed you." He was possibly even crazier than her sister.

"I know, it would have been a relief." His eyes watched every little movement of her sister as she spoke with a few residents.

"Why, what could possibly be so terrible that you would want to die?" She thought she had a pretty firm grasp on how awful life could be. She'd lost much in her life including her twin brother, lost the other half of herself and nothing would ever fix that. For the rest of her life she would feel like less than a whole person, would feel his absence with every breath and every heartbeat. She turned her mind away from Carver, worried she wouldn't be able to hold her composure.

"To save her from me. You've seen it yourself. I hurt her again and again. And yet I can't stay away from her, can't stop thinking about her. I imagine this must be what addiction feels like." His lips bowed into a bitter smile. "Addicted to your sister, a fitting punishment for me." The smile faded, "But not for her, she deserves better than that, better than me."

Sekhmet glanced over at them and shot her a small smile. She must have discovered where the Templar was, or close to finding out. Another Templar who would no doubt disappear without a trace. She seldom interfered with her sister when Templars were involved. She nodded her head in acknowledgement not able to return the smile.

When her sister looked away she turned her attention back to the mage beside her. "You think caring for her is a punishment? How could you think that? She's never done anything to hurt you, to make you doubt her."

He still wouldn't look at her. "I'm not a nice guy; I'm not even a decent guy. Sometimes, with your sister, I forget that. Or maybe I want to be nice and decent so badly that I pretend that I am. Sooner or later though reality rears its head and I remember what I am. I remember that forgetting is dangerous to her and everyone else around me." His voice sounded funny and then he stopped and looked away.

"Anders?" She was never going to figure men out at this rate. Though between her sister, Aveline and Isabela she wasn't sure she understood women either. It wasn't that she was naïve; it was more that everyone she seemed to know was just a touch crazy.

Sekhmet had stopped speaking with the Ferelden and was ready to move on. She took a few steps towards the two of them then stopped, obviously seeing that something was wrong. "Hey, what's the hold up? Is he alright?"

"We're fine. Go on, we'll be there in a minute." An excuse would have helped but she just couldn't think of one that quickly. Lying didn't come easily to her, never had. Thankfully, Sekhmet just gave her an odd look before she and Isabela took off.

"Anders?" She tried again.

He gave a nod, "I'll be alright, just give me a minute. Go help your sister."

She hadn't meant to upset him so much, or maybe she had but seeing it she just felt mean. She took a small step away and tried not to look at him as he fought for control of himself. Emotions slid over his face like cascading water, one after another in a rush. If it was balance he was looking for it looked like it might take a while. He took a few deep breaths though he still wouldn't look at her.

She was startled when he let out another dark laugh. "Do you believe in fate?"

"Fate? I don't know, sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. Sekhmet tells me that people control their own fate, but I'm not always so sure. I think…" She stopped, she was just babbling because she wasn't sure what else to do.

He looked at her finally and sighed, "Fate and I have…a history. From my…mother, to the Circle, to my freedom and even…my…my sanity, fate and I have sparred back and forth my entire life." His words were halting and his eyes began to look strange.

"I don't understand, what does that have to do with my sister?" He wasn't making a lot of sense and they needed to catch up with Sekhmet in case there was trouble.

"Want to know a secret, little Hawke?" His eyes were wide and almost looked crazed.

Should she worry to be here alone with him like this? Would he lose himself to Justice? "Uhm, what secret?"

"Fate sent your sister to me; it couldn't break me with pain, anger or solitude so it's trying to break me with the one thing I've always wanted. Someone to love me." He chuckled again, "I know, you think I'm mad, I do too half the time. When I was a Warden we had…dealings with Flemeth. Once, she told me there was someone I had to meet. And when I saw her on Sundermount with you and your sister she told me that person was your sister. That she was _for_ me." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I didn't hear her say that." The witch had barely acknowledged anyone besides Sekhmet. She had been intensely fixated on her sister.

"And if you don't think I'm mad yet you certainly will now. She spoke in my mind, that's how I heard her. So, no matter how I feel about your sister there can never be anything between us." He looked at her as if that explained everything. When she just watched him, unsure how he could come to that conclusion he sighed tiredly and spoke again.

"I am possessed of a spirit who has a merciless thirst for justice and would kill her in a moment if he felt she had committed some injustice, no matter how slight. Add to that a witch saying we were fated to be together. Eventually, I'll end up killing her or running away. Either way it's nothing but a recipe for disaster." He seemed calmer now, less manic.

"You can't know that for sure, maybe you're supposed to be together so that she can help you and so that you can help her." She couldn't believe that the two of them would both want the other but would never be able to be together, it was too cruel. Wasn't love supposed to conquer all?

"Would you risk it if you were me?" A small self deprecating smile graced his pretty lips.

"No, I suppose not. But there has to be a way." She wasn't sure Sekhmet would ever be happy without him.

"If you think of one, let me know." He turned and headed off in the direction Sekhmet and Isabela had gone.

Her mind was whirling, she wasn't sure how much of Anders' story to believe and even if she believed all of it she found it difficult to accept that the two of them had to stay apart. No, there must be something about the two of them together that helped Anders, there had to be. Not to mention her sister was calmer around Anders, less angry. She'd have to think it over, for now they really did need to get to Sekhmet and Isabela.

* * *

He'd slipped today. Hawke had disarmed him this morning showing up with those supplies and staring at him so openly, so unashamedly. Since leaving the Circle he'd come to terms with some things about himself. He was impulsive he'd always known that, in the Circle the littlest things could trigger his desire. Long hair haloed in sunlight, an overly studious student biting their bottom lip, even a singing voice he had never heard before could heat his blood and he'd go out of his way to seduce them before his attention wandered again.

At the Keep he'd realized his penchant for those who were sweet and vulnerable. Trying to stay away from them had been difficult to say the least, but he had been trying to be a better man. To be worthy of the title of Warden and not just someone 'Reyna had taken pity on and saved. He'd hit snags again and again, the biggest of which was the realization that more than anything else he wanted to be wanted. The simple act of lusting after him was enough to catch his attention, to make him want whoever it was in return. Was it ego? Narcissism? He had no idea, but still fell prey to it nonetheless. And this morning had been no different.

Hawke always flirted with him, but she flirted with everyone. This morning she had flirted but she had also been staring with hunger in her eyes. A different time she would have never left his clinic without spending some serious time in his bed. It had been a thrill to feel that rush and he'd let himself enjoy it, had even teased her. And when she hadn't pushed him he'd felt more relaxed or at least more like himself than he had in months.

Which led to him making mistakes like being too intimate with her and then rushing out of the Blooming Rose like a jealous lover. On top of that he'd shared things with Bethany he never had intentions of sharing with anyone. He'd nearly wept in front of the girl; his sleepless nights were taking more of a toll on him than he thought. The last time he'd had a decent night's sleep had been the night Hawke had spent in his clinic. He'd spent many nights since then sitting on the cot where she had slept thinking about her, trying to puzzle out a way he could protect her without having to stay away from her.

By the time he'd finally pulled himself together Hawke had finished with the Templar, and had surprisingly let the man leave with his life. Isabela had stared holes through him clearly looking for gossip while Hawke had barely acknowledged him. Even Bethany was quite now, reserved. He'd scared the poor girl he was sure.

Hawke looked straight to her sister. "We're going to check out a Foundry in Lowtown. Did you two have other things to take care of? Isabela and I can snag Varric on the way if you're busy."

Bethany scowled, "No, why would I be busy?"

"Nothing," she turned to him, "I take it that means you're not busy either?"

He ignored the implication that he was only free because Bethany was, "I'm ready, let's get going."

* * *

They'd reached the Foundry just as the sun was starting to set. As soon as the door swung open he nearly gagged, there was some odd kind of magic in the air, cloying and sweet almost sticky feeling. Bethany reeled a little as she came in and he couldn't blame her, it was strong.

Hawke scowled, "What in Andraste's name is that?"

Isabela was looking at them all oddly, "What? What am I missing?"

He'd suspected Hawke had been able to feel his magic before, but this was proof she could feel magic. "How can you feel that if you're not a mage?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, always could. Papa didn't know either, though I admit right now I wish I couldn't. This is just gross, like a melted sweet in your pocket when you go to grab a coin."

"Oh, eww. Guess I'm glad I can't feel what you're all feeling then. For a moment there I was feeling left out." Isabela walked past the three of them looking around carefully before her. She spoke in hushed excited tones, "Quick, come here, there's someone up on the second floor."

Hawke hurried to the doorway heading into the next room and he stood behind her. He caught sight of a retreating figure. From its height probably male, it looked to be carrying a staff which would explain the magic they'd felt. He didn't even realize Hawke had headed off until he heard the low groaning noises of summoned shades and followed the sound to see Hawke already across the large room and headed up the stairs.

Unable to contain a sigh of irritation at having to face the summoned creatures he stepped into the room and helped Isabela and Bethany to clear it. He glanced up from time to time to see Hawke fighting abominations above them, but she didn't seem to need assistance. She slipped out of sight just as a desire demon suddenly popped up and he'd had enough.

"Get back," he yelled and loosed a heavy dose of chain lightning as Isabela and Bethany got out of the fray. The desire demon got hit with the bulk of it killing her almost instantly. The shades that had already been weakened died as well and the few that were left were easy enough to dispatch with quick sparks of magic as he dashed across the room and up the stairs.

Hawke had disappeared into a room and he didn't like not being able to see her. He found her engaged with two more shades, though she got rid of them both before he could call up a spell. Bethany and Isabela rushed into the room behind him.

"Spoilsport, you didn't even save us any." Isabela joked.

Hawke flashed her a smile, "Sorry, you looked like you were otherwise engaged."

"We were until Prince Charming over here got worried about you and killed everything in the room in a flash." The pirate queen grinned at him.

Hawke flashed him a grin and he found himself giving her a small smile. He'd resolved to keep things between them strictly professional and like all the times he'd made the same resolution in the past he was failing spectacularly at keeping it. She did certainly seem charmed to know he'd come running to her possible rescue and he couldn't help but feel good. Not to mention she was smiling again.

Better down play this whole thing before he got carried away with himself. "I'm the healer; it's my job to keep eyes on everyone in case they need help. I couldn't see you anymore and needed a line of sight."

Isabela snorted, "Healer my ass. I've seen battled hardened mages packing less fire power."

"I was pressed to take extraordinary measures to keep watch over my charges." He tried so hard to sound earnest.

Bethany started giggling; she covered her mouth and apologized. She tried to hang on but lost it and started laughing, Isabela right on her heels. Hawke smiled then giggled, she made a few more attempts at stopping and finally gave up.

"I don't think they believe you." She snickered.

Ah women, the Maker's bane on the sanity of men. He tried to be annoyed that they were laughing at him, but it had been a pretty lame response. He couldn't quite laugh but he smiled, a small one at first before even his lips turned traitor on him and he gave the girls a real smile.

Immediately, the heat sparked back in Hawke's eyes. Her pupils dilated and her eyes darkened from their usually crystalline blue to an almost stormy grey color. He reined the smile in; he'd had enough playing with fire for one day.

"I'm going to look around see what I can find. When you three can pull yourselves together perhaps you can join me." He rolled his eyes at their renewed laughter and started checking the rest of the rooms on the second floor. He couldn't find any trace of the man or where he might have gone but he did make a more gruesome discovery.

He picked up a blood stained cloth sack and peeked inside. Reality settled over him like a lead weight and he walked back to the women who were in the midst of interchangeably mocking his lame explanation for his sudden show of power and talking animatedly about how he had destroyed all the shades. He almost wished he could enjoy their odd praise.

"I found something." His serious tone quieted them immediately.

Bethany reached for the sack, "What is it?" She scowled when he pulled it out of her reach and handed it to Hawke.

She glanced in and closed her eyes for a moment, "Are they all human?"

He nodded, "Look at the ring. I think it might be Orlesian. It could be Ninette's."

"Poor woman, having to live with a husband like that only to meet an even unhappier end." She sighed again, "Come on, we need to show this to Emeric and we should let Ghyslain know what happened to her. Maybe I'll swing by the Rose and let Jethann know, he seemed to care for her."

He felt a surge of anger and jealousy at the mention of Jethann but it was gone just as quickly. He had no claim on her, and planned on never making one. Sooner or later someone was going to catch her eye and care for her the way she deserved and if he wanted to be any part of her life at all he'd need to learn to live with it.

"Why don't you go talk to Emeric, I'll go see Ghyslain. I know how much you adore him. And I think I'll head back to the clinic afterwards, it's getting late or early I suppose." He was gratified to see how relieved Hawke seemed. She was probably afraid she'd kill the angry, bitter Orlesian.

She hesitated suddenly, "You know where to find him? As you said, it's late."

"I'll find him. Just promise me you won't kill any Templars while you're at the Gallows." He was only half kidding.

She gave him an over exaggerated sigh, "Oh, I suppose if I must. I promise. And Anders?"

The day had been a crazy one full of ups and downs and he was feeling worn and still had no idea how he was going to deal with not only his own feelings towards Hawke, but the fact that Bethany now had an idea of how much he cared for her older sister. It was a lot to think about and weighed on him heavily. He just wanted to see if the ring was Ninette's then crawl into his cot. "Yes?" He hoped he'd managed to keep his sudden weariness out of his voice.

"I hope your clinic has good locks. The next time I come by early in the morning I won't be knocking." She gave him a wide teasing smile.

He chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind."


	13. Chapter 13

**Halfling**

Justice had enough of this woman dragging him and Anders all over the city on her pointless 'jobs', there was never an end to them and he and Anders had more important things to attend to. He surged forward, instinctively pushing Anders back and was surprised that he had actually been able to break through. "We have no time for your distractions." His voice resonated off the walls of Anders' clinic.

The Hawke woman smirked at him, "Well, hello beautiful, I've been wondering where you went. I haven't seen you since the Chantry."

That was an odd statement. "You see us almost everyday."

"No, I see Anders almost everyday. Your beautiful blueness is usually missing though." She was still smiling and he found it irritating.

Her dog was even more irritating. It was growling, lips peeled back baring its teeth. Slowly, it crept forward sniffing the whole time before giving a confused sounding whimper and backing away again. The dog stayed beside his mistress growling intermittently.

"What is wrong with your dog?" he couldn't help being confused, Pentheryn had never reacted to him in such a way.

"You look like Anders, you even smell like him, but clearly you're not Anders. It doesn't make sense to him and makes him uneasy." She was so calm, like it made perfect sense.

"I am Anders." He and the mage were joined, were one.

She just cocked her head a little, "No, you're not. You're Justice. If you were Anders it wouldn't bother Tyr."

"Anders and I are one; your dog must feel the Fade. After Karl we realized that our merging joined not just our consciousness but Fade and flesh as well. Now, quiet the beast." He should not have to explain himself to this woman.

She rubbed the dog's head. "Tyr, this is Justice. He won't hurt you, or me."

The dog stopped growling but let out another short whine.

He did not have the time or the patience for this. He and Anders were studying all the texts they could find on the Chantry and its structure. Anders had taken the adage "know your enemy" to heart and wanted to understand how the whole religious order worked in order to find the best ways to dismantle the entire thing. Anders kept his research to himself, not sure Hawke would approve of his new, much broader objective.

Justice was not as sure the secrecy was necessary, he had seen Hawke's own zeal for himself, but would respect Anders' wishes. The man cared far too much what the small woman thought of him for Justice's liking. And, he had begun to question Anders' own commitment. He seemed content to run off with the small Hawke woman at any time leaving the research and therefore action for a later time. They had been idle on this matter for too long already. They needed to take action, not just read musty books.

Irritation tried to flutter into anger and he knew the woman needed to leave before he hurt her. Anders would get nothing done for days, instead slipping into deep melancholy if Justice were to hurt his friend. He had already been subjected to several of the mage's darker moods. It had been tedious, so he would get rid of the woman and then they could get back to the important matter at hand.

He stalked forward, fully expecting Sekhmet to retreat, most people did. But she held her ground, that maddening smile still in place. "You will leave now."

She shook her head, "Sorry, Justice, no can do. I need Anders today."

He ground Anders' teeth in frustration. His mind repeating over and over _"must not hurt her, must not hurt her"_. He tried to get rid of her again. "Anders is busy. We have things to attend to."

"Funny, Anders just told me he would be more than happy to help." Her smile was still firmly in place.

He wanted to smack the smug smile off her face. He wanted her out of Anders' life completely. Briefly, he wondered if it would not be easier just to kill her. Anders would eventually recover, he was resilient after all, and would likely get to work on the things that really mattered. He took a few deep breaths as Anders sometimes did to calm himself. There would be no justice in killing her. She did not force Anders to follow her, she asked. Anders was the one who could not focus and he would not punish her for Anders' faults. "Anders is easily distracted. And you are a distraction."

Her smile widened even more, "Glad to know I at least register. But seriously Justice, I need Anders today and he already agreed to help. It wouldn't be right to go back on his word now."

He studied her carefully for a few more moments before deciding she was right, he would not make a liar out of Anders. Something would need to be done about the woman's hold over Anders, but not today. He slipped back and let Anders take control again.

* * *

Panic making his heart race, Anders was grateful that Justice had stepped back. Anders hadn't been able to focus enough to pull Justice back. His fear of Justice hurting Hawke had been overpowering especially as Justice had not shielded his thoughts from him at all. He shook his head, struggling to keep from shaking her for challenging Justice like that. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

She quirked an eyebrow, like he was the one that was crazy. "No, he's not so bad. Whatever happened when you two merged he still thinks of himself as a spirit of justice, so I treat him as such."

Should he tell her just how close she was to pushing Justice over the line? Probably not. "One of these days you might not be able to reason with him like that." He kept his voice quiet, she'd just argue with him if he tried to push the issue.

Her purple lips curled into a slip of a smile, her small teeth showing between, "One of these days one of these jobs might get me killed. In the meantime, I see no need to jump at every shadow I see."

"So where are we going? Do I need to bring my tent and bedroll?" He was already strapping his staff to his back, his thumb sliding over the fabric binding the cracked wood together. Before long it would need replacing. Already, its ability to channel energy was severely hampered. He'd need to take more jobs with Hawke to be able to afford even the materials to make a decent one and he'd never actually made his own before, though he knew the logistics of it.

"No, just your gorgeous self." Her eyes skittered away from him quickly and she turned heading for the door. "It's just a few small jobs, but I expect lots of resistance."

He wasn't sure what exactly had changed with her, but the last few times they had seen each other, she flirted like she always did but she never really looked at him when she did it. Perhaps another had already snagged her attention. Perhaps her flirtations were more habit than real interest now. The idea both soothed him and made him ache. Quietly, thinking to himself, he followed her out of the clinic, locking his doors on the way.

Bethany was there waiting for the two of them. She gave him an awkward smile, something else that had been happening the last few times he had seen the Hawke sisters. He expected Beth's odd behavior though. Hawke's attention was probably elsewhere and Beth thought he was crazy after his ramblings, his delusions of grandeur of him against Fate.

He started forward only to be stopped by Tyr. The big black dog stood in front of him sniffed him a coupled times then nuzzled his hand and licked it before barking happily. Trying not to grimace he wiped his hand on his coat. "Does that mean I pass big guy?" He scratched the dog's ear a little trying to reassure it.

"I think he's just glad that you're you again. I don't think he cares for Justice much." Hawke quietly waved Tyr over to her; she knew he wasn't completely comfortable with the dog and it's over enthusiastic affection.

"The feelings were quite mutual." He let out a breath, "Shall we go?"

Hawke quietly led them out of Darktown, her enormous dog keeping stride beside her. As they reached Lowtown and turned away from The Hanged Man Anders gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep his mouth shut. They were headed to the Alienage which meant that Hawke was going to ask Merrill along. He avoided Merrill as much as he could, he disliked blood mages and her naïveté was grating.

Beth was sweet and naïve, but she was also strong and smart. Merrill on the other hand was creepy, seemingly frail, even her personality seemed a delicate thing. And smart was not a word he would associate with the elf. Hawke didn't take her with them all that often and when she did it was generally because she was trying to keep Varric happy.

The dwarf had, for some unknown reason, taken a fondness to the girl and had adopted her in a way. He supposed it was good that Merrill had someone to look over her; perhaps Varric could keep her from making any further terrible mistakes with her life. Blood mage or not he didn't want to see her captured and taken to the Gallows.

As they entered the Alienage he saw a Templar talking to a small elven woman and felt Hawke tense beside him. Looking around he didn't see any other Templars, which was a surprise. Bethany placed a hand on Hawke's arm, clearly meant to restrain her older sister. "Wait."

Hawke nodded but didn't relax. They stood a little out of the way listening to the elven woman speak with the lone Templar about her missing son, Feynriel. The boy was a mage who she had been hiding from the Templars but now suddenly she wanted the Templars to find. Hawke was shifting her weight back and forth as the Templar and elven woman spoke, tension coiled in every movement. At last the Templar walked away, moving past the three of them as if he didn't even see them.

Bethany looked to Hawke, "We have to help her, this could have been our mother."

Hawke scowled, "No, mother would never have let the Templars take you. And neither would I."

"Fine, alright, but can we please help this poor woman? She's out of her mind with worry for her son." Her voice pleaded softly.

Before Hawke spoke he knew the answer, Hawke could refuse Bethany nothing it seemed. Hawke gave Bethany a smile and crossed to the elven woman. "I'm guessing that Templar wasn't here to offer your son his good wishes."

The woman's name was Arianni, a Dalish elf who had a 'dalliance', as she called it, with a human and became pregnant. She ended up in the Alienage when the Dalish did not want a human blooded child among them and the man who had gotten her with child hadn't wanted anything to do with an elf blooded child either.

Anders listened intently to Arianni's story. She had realized when Feynriel was young that he had magic, but had not wanted to give him up to the Circle; he was all that she had. So they had stayed in the Alienage and out of the Templar's sight. However, recently her son had been having terrible dreams where demons spoke to him.

Worried that he might become possessed she had contacted the Circle, hoping that they could help him. When Feynriel had discovered that Arianni had contacted the Templars he had fled. He didn't want to end up a prisoner in the Circle. Anders understood that well enough.

The Templar she had been speaking to was called Thrask, she said he was trying to take Feynriel in peacefully, but had been unable to locate the boy. He had come to the Alienage urging her to try to find her son as well, but Feynriel felt betrayed by her and had not even spoken to her before he disappeared. Arianni was terrified of what might happen to her son if a Templar other than Thrask found him. She was convinced Thrask was a good man; Anders, finding it hard to believe, just kept his mouth shut.

If there was a way for mages to be trained without the threat of the Circle Arianni wouldn't have had to turn on her own son. Feynriel wouldn't have had to run away from his only home and his mother's love just to be free. He could only imagine what must be going on in Feynriel's head, the boy was probably terrified.

He was relieved when Hawke agreed to help look for the boy, perhaps they could help him. Arianni wasn't sure where he might be but knew that the boy's father, Vincento who was a merchant, had recently returned to Kirkwall. She thought the boy might have sought him out, he had never really accepted that his father had abandoned them. Hawke promised the woman to look for Feynriel right away.

Anders was almost ashamed at his relief when Hawke left the Alienage without fetching Merrill. The blood mage was just one more complication that none of them needed. And there was no need to expose a boy who was struggling with his magic to someone like Merrill; it could send him down a very dark path.

Hawke went straight to the Lowtown market and after a few quick inquires found Vincento. The man sounded like a bad imitation of a lothario. Anders shook his head and held his tongue and he noticed that Hawke was struggling not to outright laugh. Bethany seemed better equipped to deal with the man and Hawke let her.

She told Vincento they were looking for his son and when the merchant tried to deflect Bethany called a little magic to her hands to show him she was a mage as well. Anders anxiously craned his head around keeping an eye out for any Templars and Hawke did the same. Finally, the man admitted Feynriel had come to him looking for aid. Not knowing what else to do Vincento had sent the boy to a former Templar named Sampson. Vincento was even able to tell them that they could find Samson at one of the entrances to Darktown at night.

No one wanted to go to the Gallows to find the Templar Thrask, so without any other lead they called it an early day so they could get some rest before seeking out Sampson. He quickly headed back to Darktown wanting to squeeze in any patients he could before Hawke came back to collect him.

His clinic had overflowed with patients and as dusk fell and the crowd thinned he knew he would need to grab a few lyrium potions before Hawke arrived. He turned off his lamps and escorted his last patient from the clinic. Rubbing his temple with a long sigh he trudged to his small room in the back of the clinic.

Quickly, he unlocked his desk pulling open the top drawer and reached into the small compartment he had cut into the wood weeks ago. A silver key slipped into his hand immediately sending Justice into gibbering with delight, the spirit adored the key and what it meant.

Fighting to keep Justice under control he crossed the room, moving to another doorway mostly blocked by debris. He pulled a few pieces of wood out of his way to reveal the locked chest hidden within. The lid was heavy and thudded loudly against the wall behind it. Pulling out three flasks of lyrium he closed and relocked the chest hastily.

He made sure to put the key away before he drank the lyrium, otherwise he would forget. He settled himself on his cot, back resting against the wall and opened the first flask, drinking the liquid quickly. The icy burn as it went down a small prelude of what he knew was coming. The thoughts he associated with Justice became louder and shivers danced across his skin.

He downed the second and the third, just wanting to get it over with. His body throbbed, Justice reveling in the lyrium running through their veins, feeling something very akin to sexual pleasure. Anders felt nothing but revulsion though. The struggle not to down every flask he had, the struggle not to get lost in a lyrium fueled haze harder each time he drank the vile liquid. Justice's obsession with the ore and its song placed Anders on a razor's edge struggling not to fall over the line into addiction.

He'd seen both Templars and mages lost to lyrium addiction and did not want to end up like them, vacant and in agony with the constant craving. He knew Justice did not mean to put such strain on him. And with the chest locked and hidden away Justice never really thought about it. Their first foray into using lyrium had been awful. Nothing but the lyrium and madness for days until both the coin and the lyrium ran out. And coming down had been an unspeakable torment.

Quiet and still, he sat taking long slow breaths struggling to keep his control while Justice reveled. His face was covered in sweat, but his skin felt cool when he brushed the back of his hand across his forehead to mop up the sweat. The cool skin was a testament to how close Justice was to taking control completely. His skin even shimmered pale blue in several places though it never actually cracked open.

Eventually, Justice quieted and Anders was able to relax. The magic was surging through him now, suffusing his whole body, not just rushing in his veins. He hoped it would be enough, he would not bring lyrium with them, the others would not understand. Feeling physically invigorated and mentally drained he stood and stretched walking back into the clinic to begin tidying up while he waited for Hawke.

When Hawke came to get him that evening she had Fenris and Bethany both in tow. He was less than thrilled about Fenris being there, but understood why Hawke had brought the elf with them. He tried to ignore Fenris knowing how much Hawke hated it when they argued and feeling too wrung out to argue besides. He was relieved when they found Sampson fairly easily.

The former Templar complained about the order and how he was left with an addiction to lyrium he could never quite sate. Anders almost felt bad for him until the whining became an obvious request for Hawke to provide for his addiction. Hawke looked as disgusted as Anders felt; she tossed a few coins to the man who then told them about Feynriel.

He was irritated by Sampson's callousness; the former templar had sent the scared boy off to someone who had apparently decided they would rather make a profit selling the boy into slavery than to help a mage to freedom. Frustrated, he suppressed the urge to strangle the former Templar figuring that spending the rest of his life with an addiction he didn't seem to have the will to beat, to a substance he clearly couldn't afford would be punishment enough.

As a healer the idea repulsed him, but as a mage he felt vindicated. It was gratifying to know the Templars paid at least a small price for their treatment of mages. Justice must have agreed since he didn't strike out at the man.

At least Sampson was able to point them in the direction of a warehouse where they might find the boy. So off they trekked to the docks and the warehouse. When they got to the warehouse they found men assaulting a mage woman. Her voice wavered as she asked for help, the poor girl sounded terrified.

He cringed as the mage fell to the ground, body contorting as she became an abomination. If she had only been able to hold on a few moments longer, or if people weren't taught it was alright to treat mages as less than people, perhaps they could have saved her. Instead, they ended up killing the abomination as well as her captors.

He felt no remorse at all for the men as he saw their mutilated bodies lying lifeless around them. He was more than a little surprised to learn that the girl who had become an abomination was Ser Thrask's daughter; she had a letter on her addressed to him. He wondered if the girl's mother had been a mage and if so, had she been with this Thrask willingly.

He shoved the thoughts out of his mind, best not to think about it. If he followed that thought Justice might have come through and headed off to the Gallows, not something any of them could afford. They still had a boy to find.

In one of the chests Hawke unlocked they found information that could lead them to Feynriel. It seemed he had possibly been taken to Darktown where a slaver awaited him. Hoping they weren't too late they set off immediately, all of them worried that if they didn't find the boy soon they never would.

Headed to Darktown to face a slaver, he was sure Fenris would be just thrilled about that. Tevinter was the only country that openly allowed slavery. By law they were not allowed to collect slaves from other countries, but they continued to do so.

When they found the slaver Hawke seemed to share his sentiment in regards to Fenris being more than happy at the prospect of killing a Tevinter slaver. As they entered the dark room, they spotted roughly ten men, it was easy to see which one was in charge. He strolled up to them casually, all cocksure that he would be adding the four newcomers to their cadre of slaves to sell to Tevinter.

Hawke didn't even bother talking to the man. She turned to Fenris, a wicked smile on her purple painted lips. "Make him talk."

A charming smile graced Fenris' lips, his eyes sparkled with pleasure. _"He's actually quite beautiful if you can get past him being a complete ass."_ He thought briefly. And the thought was immediately obliterated when Fenris' tattoos lit up, making Anders' own skin pebble as the makeshift magic prickled in the air around the elf. Justice 'woke' briefly from what Anders called his post lyrium stupor, just long enough to see the source of the lyrium tinged magic, touching Anders' thoughts with his own before slipping away again.

Fenris calmly reached into the slavers' chest and gripped his heart. The slaver choked, sheer terror on his face before he collapsed as Fenris released him. The slaver was suddenly more than happy to tell them where he was keeping Feynriel in the hope that Hawke would let him live. Of course, Hawke didn't let him live, they killed all of the slavers before they left. Which was fine with him, slavery, in any form was repugnant to him.

As they headed out of the corpse strewn room Hawke turned to him "Get your stuff together, meet us at Uncle Gamlen's in about an hour, Anders."

He nodded and headed off to get his tent and some supplies for the trip out to the coast. If they were leaving the city Fenris wouldn't be going with them. Hawke was very careful not to have both him and the elf with her for extended periods of time, she couldn't stand their bickering. He would have to remember to grab some more parchment from his desk before he met her.

* * *

Bethany was sitting on the steps waiting for Sekhmet to return and for Anders to show up. She still wasn't sure how she felt about everything Anders had told her regarding him, fate and Sekhmet. She ranged back and forth over a myriad of thoughts about it as she waited.

Anders wasn't the type to lie, and he really seemed to believe it. But why would the Maker go out of his way to make Anders' life so difficult. Though, hadn't Sekhmet's life been singularly difficult? And what had her sister ever done to deserve all the garbage that was heaped on her? Perhaps the Maker's absence was proof enough that such things could happen.

Or maybe Flemeth had more than a passing say in the whole affair. Flemeth was supposed to be a legend, but she was real so what was to say she couldn't speak in Anders' mind? Did the witch have the power to bring her sister and Anders together? If it _had_ been her, what was the purpose? What could she hope to gain by putting the two of them together?

And if she had, would it be a good thing or something terrible to continue pushing them together? She took a deep breath and exhaled with frustration. She wasn't even sure it mattered anymore. Sekhmet had been quiet and withdrawn since she had learned about Isabela and Anders. The pirate queen seemed to delight in telling her sister all sorts of things to wind the elder Hawke up.

Last night, they had been visiting with Varric, just talking and enjoying the company when Isabela had sauntered into the room with a smile. She had settled down next to Sekhmet and drew circles on the table with her finger. Her feigned causal air fooled none of them.

"If you're here to cause trouble Rivani get lost." Varric scowled at her, all too aware of how much Isabela was enjoying Sekhmet's torment.

"No trouble, just had a question for our fearless leader." She smiled again and Sekhmet looked at her, dread already writ across her features. "So, Hawke, have you ever been with a man as tall as Anders?"

Her sister scowled but didn't reply.

"No? Well, I think you would enjoy it. Anders is very…" her smile cranked up again, "well proportioned."

"How fabulous for you then." It was said softly, no anger, not like the last few times Isabela had come to torment her.

Isabela's smile faltered a little, but she pressed on. "Yes, quite wonderful."

Her sister had pushed to her feet nodding to Varric, "See you later; I'm going to call it an early night. You'll make sure Beth gets home safe?"

Varric had been scowling at Isabela before he turned his attention to Sekhmet. "Not a problem."

Bethany had wanted to set Isabela's hair on fire. "No, need Varric. I'm going to get headed out as well."

Her sister hadn't responded, had just strapped her daggers back on and left the tavern in quick strides.

Isabela's voice followed them, sulking "Well, that wasn't any fun. Entertain me Varric."

"Take a hike, Rivani. No one wants to see you today." His voice was frosty. Not a tone Bethany heard him use often.

Beth had glanced back to see Varric pushing Isabela out of the room and slamming the door in her face. She'd felt quite satisfied at seeing it, but when she tried to tell Sekhmet her sister didn't seem interested. Of course, Sekhmet hadn't seemed interested in much of anything lately.

She took jobs because they needed the coin; she even took Anders because they needed a healer. She flirted, but it was half hearted. Beth's sister was hurting and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't even trust her healing skills enough yet to give Sekhmet a break from Anders.

"Enough boy, give it a rest."

Bethany stood up at the sound of her sister's voice and watched as Tyr nuzzled her hand before moving behind her and nudging her, trying to get her to pick up the pace. He bounded around her again before huffing and falling into step beside Sekhmet. She flashed Beth a smile surprising the younger Hawke at just how well she could fake her good mood.

"I think he's anxious to get out of the city. It's been a while since he was able to run free." Sekhmet stopped at the base of the stairs and Tyr plopped down to sit at her feet. "Anders isn't here yet?"

"Not yet, he should be here any time now. We should take someone else with us too." Bethany didn't argue with Sekhmet often, but her sister hadn't been exactly thinking clearly the last few days.

"We'll be fine, besides we'll move faster with just the three of us. Anders is the only one who can keep up with the two of us for any amount of time." Another half hearted smile touched her lips.

"Am I late?" Anders' eyes roved over the two of them then cast casually about before he slowed his steps, a look of apprehension curtaining his features briefly before slipping away. Apparently, he was as uneasy as Bethany was about the three of them trekking out of the city together.

Her sister's lips curved into a stiff smile but she didn't turn to look at him. "Not at all, you're right on time, beautiful. Ready to head out?"

"Just us then?" His voice was quieter and he glanced to Bethany as if looking for help.

Bethany nodded in answer before swinging her pack onto her shoulder; this trip was going to be a long one. She headed out, not waiting to see if they followed her.

* * *

He tried not to watch as Hawke thrust her arm out to the side with an angry yell, embedding her dagger in the slaver's throat. She twisted and yanked the dagger back out watching as the man clutched his throat and crumbled to the ground. Her eyes scanned the room and when her eyes met his she gave him a little smile.

He was worried about her. "Aren't you tired, Hawke?" She was the only one wielding a blade and he knew he would have been. Tyr was great, but he still wished they had brought someone else along.

She nodded, her smile cracking wider and her eyes twinkling a little, the first real smile he'd seen from her in a few days. "Exhausted."

"We should have brought someone else along." Bethany's voice was quietly admonishing.

Hawke shook her head, "Not on your life. Who would you suggest, and don't say Merrill. I want to smack her half the time."

Bethany shrugged, "I don't know, Varric or Isabela probably."

"I couldn't find Varric." She replied tersely.

"And Isabela?" Bethany asked carefully.

Hawke just glared at her sister.

"Am I missing something girls?" Something was obviously going on between the two of them.

Bethany sighed tiredly, "It's nothing, she and Isabela aren't exactly getting along right now."

"Why?" The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. And it was a stupid question really, he knew why.

"Are you kidding me?" All humor was gone from Hawke's face.

And he almost missed Bethany's quiet statement, "Because of you."

He groaned, he really didn't want to think about it. He had found it funny at the time when he and Isabela realized where they knew each other from. Honestly, what were the chances that they would meet in a brothel in Ferelden and then end up running into each other more than a year later in a different country?

Since then though, the whole thing had become a bit of a nightmare. Isabela was constantly flirting with him and he was sure it was more to irritate Hawke than any interest she might have had in him. The two of them weren't even interested in each other when they had been at the brothel in Denerim.

She had just happened to be at the Pearl when he stopped for some entertainment while on the run from the Templars. Honestly, the little stop had probably been why he had been caught less than a week later near Amaranthine. And here he was more than a year later and he was still paying for it. No wonder Justice all but kept his cock under glass.

Hawke snapped at Bethany. "It's not because of Anders, Beth. It's because she doesn't know when to shut that fat mouth of hers."

Her sister nodded a little, "Alright. Fine. Sorry."

He turned to Hawke waiting for her to explode again, but she just took a deep breath and headed towards a doorway hewn in the rough rock ahead of them. He suppressed the very ill advised urge to smile. A few years ago he would have been crowing over Hawke's jealousy. Even now, vowed to the single life he couldn't help but feel a little exhilarated at the idea. He just hoped she got over it quickly. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed Isabela.

Normally, he wouldn't waste his time with explanations; he didn't owe them to anyone. He was an adult and his life was his own, but this was a special circumstance. "In all fairness, pretty much everyone at the Pearl that night saw me naked. I was…very drunk." He didn't usually go to brothels looking for sex; he looked for good spirits and a chance to show off, which was exactly what he had done that night. In the Circle his little electricity trick was old hat, but in the brothel they thought he was amazing.

Hawke shook her head, "No, doesn't really help." She turned striding away from them quickly.

He walked a little faster to catch up to her; he scowled not sure why he felt like he had to explain himself to Hawke. "Listen, nothing happened." He spoke softly.

Hawke turned to him incredulously. "You want me to believe you were naked in a whorehouse with Isabela…_Isabela_… and nothing happened?"

Slow, deep breath, "I may have shown her a few little tricks, but even in Ferelden she had a reputation and that's saying something in a brothel."

Hawke seethed at him. "So you what, pranced around naked playing with electricity and then just got dressed and left?"

He shook his head, he was getting annoyed now. "You know what? I don't owe you an explanation, I was trying to help."

"Lying doesn't help me." She spat before turning and starting away from him again.

He grabbed her upper arm, suddenly furious, and turned her back to face him, "I'm not lying. I never had sex, of any kind, with Isabela. Other than that, my life is my own." And even in his anger all he could think was _"Just a kiss, just let me kiss her Justice, just a single kiss."_ If he could just kiss her, she would know that Isabela was nothing, not worth her time to fret over. He knew Justice wouldn't budge but it didn't make him want it any less. His desire for her did nothing to dampen his anger at her calling him a liar though.

The two of them stood there glaring at each other for a minute until Bethany cleared her throat. "Uh, we should probably get going. Who knows what kind of shape Feynriel is in?"

Hawke jerked her arm free from Anders' grip and spun on her heel walking away from him.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath, he had never met a woman who could get under his skin like Hawke. They agreed on almost everything, yet she still managed to rile him. Watching her walk stiffly ahead of him he pushed the anger aside and became worried about what she was going to do with Feynriel. He wasn't worried about her hurting the boy but her patience was wearing thin. "Hawke, what are you planning on doing with this boy once we find him?"

"Once we find him? You mean_ if_ we find him. We've been running all over the city and now we're in a cave." Hawke grumbled.

"We'll find him." Bethany snapped.

Hawke gave her sister a small nod, "Right, sorry."

It always surprised him how much sway Bethany seemed to hold over Hawke. And he was grateful for it. No matter where her passions carried her Bethany could always bring her back with just a few words or a soft touch. Hawke often joked that Bethany made her seem not so rough around the edges, and that without her sister she wasn't fit for polite company.

Hawke continued. "It depends on what he has planned and of course whether or not he has become an abomination. If he attacks there's not really much we can do." Suddenly, both she and Tyr stopped in their tracks, "Shh." She canted her head towards the doorway in front of them.

He heard muffled voices coming from the next room. Hawke gripped one of her recently re-sheathed daggers but didn't free it and walked in, her huge dog right on her heels quiet but on high alert. He and Bethany followed from a short distance. As they entered the room they saw numerous men standing around, but for the moment they just watched the new comers encroaching on their cave. Not wanting to get caught unaware he started calling his magic up, gathering a chain lighting spell to his fingertips in case the need arose.

Hawke canted her head again then looked back and made eye contact with him briefly before glancing at two places behind him. He looked where she had indicated as he continued to follow her and realized she was telling him where the other mages were, expecting him to take care of them. Neither of them had been calling on their magic, how the void did she do that?

As they moved further into the room they heard a man's voice come from above. "Take one more step and the boy dies." Looking up they saw a slightly overweight man holding a sword to a scared boy's throat. The boy couldn't have been more than sixteen. He assumed it was the missing boy Feynriel as he had a slender face and slightly elvish looking features.

Hawke let go of her dagger and he felt nervousness prickle along his skin when she gripped a throwing knife on the back of her belt, even knowing how good she was with the knives. "One more regular step? How about if I take a baby step? Or maybe I could take a side step? What exactly are the rules to this dance?"

The man scowled, "Quit playing games girl, you'll get both the boy and yourself killed."

Hawke smirked and Anders' stomach knotted. Just leave it alone he wanted to scream at her, but even if he had she would have just ignored him.

"Just the two of us?" She nodded back towards him and Bethany, "What about them? If you kill me you're going to have to kill them. How can you be sure they won't come after you? Who knows…one of them might be my lover, or even family. Then you'd have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life wondering if they were coming for you."

"Good grief woman, just shut up already." The man's gruff voice clearly tinged with annoyance now.

"Did you really just tell _me_ to shut up?" Without seeing her face Anders couldn't tell if she was annoyed or amused.

"Yes, now sh…" The man's words were cut off and he dropped his sword as he reached for the knife suddenly protruding from his neck.

"Just checking." Her voice had a little lilt in it as Anders watched the knife slip from her fingers with barely a whisper and embed itself deep into the man's throat causing a half gurgle, half scream to issue from him as he went down in a fountain of blood.

Anders just shook his head, lightning already dancing from his fingertips as the other men in the cavern attacked them. The four of them, including Tyr, made short work of the remaining slavers. And he was just glad that as they fighting stopped no one had been injured, including the half elven boy they had been looking for.

The boy walked down the stairs cut into the rock face on shaky legs. His voice was shrill and he was clearly nervous as he spoke to Hawke. "He could have killed me."

Hawke was glaring at the kid and he suddenly changed his tune. "I mean, thank you for…uh…saving me. You are here to save me right?"

Hawke smirked, "That was the plan."

Feynriel looked a bit relieved but only for a moment. "Who are you? Did the Templars send you?"

"Your mother sent me." Hawke answered.

The boy scowled, "So you're going to drag me off to the Templars I suppose. I can't believe her, she promised to protect me and now she's delivering me into the hands of those…those…"

"Monsters?" Hawke helpfully supplied.

Feynriel fell silent for a moment. "Does that mean you do not intend to hand me over to the Templars?"

Her face softened as if she was just now realizing how scared the boy was. "I would not rescue you from these slavers just to turn you over to another set of slavers. I'm here to help you, Feynriel."

"We're all here to help you." Bethany's voice was soft and reassuring. Perhaps they should have let her speak to the boy from the outset.

Feynriel was immediately suspicious, "Why? You don't even know me."

Hawke glanced at Bethany who gave her a slight nod, before speaking. "I've spent my whole life protecting my sister from exactly what you fear."

Anders wanted to help the boy, but there were other things to consider besides just keeping him away from the Templars. "Your mother says demons have been speaking to you."

The boy's eyes cast downward as he scuffed at the dirt. "I don't know for sure, but I think so. In my dreams they come to me and talk to me. They ask me to shape the Fade for them. I do not even know what they're talking about."

"Have they made you any promises? Have you accepted anything they might have offered, no matter how little?" They all needed to know, so Anders pushed a little more.

"No serrah, I have not accepted anything they offered. In truth, I am afraid of them." His voice trembled a little.

"It's alright to be afraid, especially if it kept you from making a mistake." Hawke clapped the boy's shoulder companionably.

"Would…is there any chance you'd help me reach the Dalish?" Feynriel looked cautiously hopeful. "That's where I was trying to go. See if they would take me in. I'm as much Dalish as human."

Was the boy nuts? The Dalish wouldn't accept him, he might be half Dalish but as far as the Dalish were concerned the boy might as well have been just human.

Hawke seemed to consider it though, "Life among the Dalish wouldn't be easy."

The boy smiled, likely guessing he was going to get his way. "Nothing much in my life has been."

Hawke looked to her sister for a long moment before turning back to Feyriel. "No, I suppose it hasn't. If my friends have no objections we'll escort you to Sundermount and I'll speak to the Keeper on your behalf."

The boy looked elated. "She doesn't hate humans? Oh, you don't know what a relief that is; I know if someone can help me it will be her. Thank the Creators you were the one my mother hired to find me. I will forever be in your debt."

Hawke nodded, "Let's not get overly sentimental. We should hole up here tonight and we can head up the mountain in the morning.

Anders smiled; glad the boy was getting a chance without going to the Circle. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to spend more time alone with the Hawke sisters but wanted to make sure the boy reached his destination safely. Thinking about the boy's mother he felt a little pang of guilt that she would be stuck waiting another few days to hear news about her son. But overall he felt relieved, "So, once we're done playing around on the mountain who's going to tell Mother Dearest? By then she'll be just dying to hear what happened."

Hawke turned to him, "Just for that, Anders, you are."


End file.
